


The Ghosts That We Knew

by itsmoonpeaches



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang (Avatar)-centric, Action & Romance, Air Nomads (Avatar), Effects of War, F/M, Friendship, Katara (Avatar)-centric, Love, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Mai/Zuko, Minor Sokka/Suki, Minor Violence, Post-100 Year War (Avatar TV), Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Spirit World (Avatar), Spirits, the Kataang fic where Katara does the saving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26297467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmoonpeaches/pseuds/itsmoonpeaches
Summary: “Wake up, Katara,” an echoing feminine voice whispered into her ear. She had a brief vision of white cloth and a glowing form, but it vanished as soon as she opened her eyes.There was a howling in her ears, blood rushing and pumping from every end of her body in strumming beats. She could feel it with every breath, every tremor of her fingers. She was restless, twisting and turning on the sheets of her bed until she was coiled into a tangled mess of pillows and cotton blankets.Katara shot up on the mattress, watching as the bedroom she was in filled with the cascading light of an almost full moon—a waning gibbous—from the single window.-Or, when there are assassination attempts made on Zuko, Iroh calls his nephew's friends to the Fire Nation for help. But, there is something else underneath it all, and it's affecting Aang and Katara more than the others.
Relationships: Aang & Gyatso (Avatar), Aang & Katara (Avatar), Aang & The Gaang (Avatar), Aang & Toph Beifong & Katara & Sokka & Suki & Zuko, Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 117
Kudos: 161
Collections: AtLA <25k fics to read





	1. Jasmine Green

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again. Here we are, a new story. This is very Aang and Katara focused, and the chapters will alternate between them. Again, because I don't like writing long chapter stories, this is planned to be 3 chapters. There is minor violence in this story, and I suppose that comes with the territory of describing attempts on someone's life, no? 
> 
> The title is inspired from a song called Ghosts That We Knew by Mumford & Sons.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this crazy foray into the wild!

“Wake up, Katara,” an echoing feminine voice whispered into her ear. She had a brief vision of white cloth and a glowing form, but it vanished as soon as she opened her eyes.

There was a howling in her ears, blood rushing and pumping from every end of her body in strumming beats. She could feel it with every breath, every tremor of her fingers. She was restless, twisting and turning on the sheets of her bed until she was coiled into a tangled mess of pillows and cotton blankets.

Katara shot up on the mattress, watching as the bedroom she was in filled with the cascading light of an almost full moon—a waning gibbous—from the single window. She sighed, silently asking Yue to take it easy for the night to no avail. She dragged a hand down her face, exhausted.

There was something different about tonight, a pressure in the air that hefted itself across her body in an uncomfortable shroud. It was suffocating, unfamiliar. Perhaps there was something magical to it, but menacing. She could not pinpoint the sensation, only felt it like the pulsating heartbeat it was. There was something afoot, and she was afraid. All she knew was that she needed to get out of there. 

Deciding that there was no need for her to attempt to fall back asleep, Katara gathered a clean set of clothing and changed out of her nightgown. There was no use trying when she knew that nothing she attempted would get her to close her eyes. Whatever specter that rested heavy in the night would not escape her notice.

Her bare feet ghosted across the cool tile. She propped open her door, looking left and right. There was no one in the hallways, and she was grateful. She supposed that she should take cautious steps. There was no telling that Toph would be able to feel that someone might be disturbing her sleep. She tiptoed, making a stealthy exit to the door and the step that separated it from the rest of the household. She picked up her boots and slipped them on, taking care not to make any extraneous noise.

Once she was outside, she basked in the nighttime air. Behind her, the Beifong estate casted a shadow before her path. She made her way around the winding streets of Cranefish Town in a somewhat hyperaware daze.

She was happy that Toph and Lao Beifong had allowed she, Sokka, and Aang to make a home for themselves there. Katara was not sure what they would do if they had to keep camping out at every location they landed in. Not that she minded. In fact, there were times that she loved the freedom being outside gave them. She could stargaze, joke by the campfire, trade stories with her friends. Just like old times.

But they all knew that it was not like old times, and that was not bad at all. Just different. The three and a half years since the Hundred Year War ended were eventful to say the least. All of them had grown up a lot during the war itself, but now they had grown into the roles that the world that thrust upon them at young ages. Zuko was no longer the hesitant Fire Lord, Sokka was learning to lead in a proper capacity, Toph had established a mentalbending school with a branch in Cranefish Town, and she herself was a renowned teacher and healer.

Aang had become someone everyone had admired, and she had found herself thinking of him a lot more lately. She was proud of her best friend, and she was overjoyed to be together with him. She loved him even more every day. At sixteen, he had totally embraced his role as the Avatar and had become someone who the world needed. Ironically, he had done so at the age he was supposed to find out his true identity. If she thought of how she imagined the mysterious and formidable being of an Avatar when she was younger, Aang would be that figure.

“Now if only I could be as calm as Aang,” Katara muttered to herself. She could feel her skin start to itch, her blood coursing through her veins, imploring her to do something with all the underlying energy that resided within her.

The feeling scared her and brought back unwanted memories of Hama and her bloodbending teachings. In fact, she had not felt the urge to bloodbend in a long time. Normally, it was rare, but there was something about tonight that set her on edge.

Katara made her way to the beach that overlooked the bay. Sokka had started to fondly call it Yue Bay, and seeing how the moon reflected off the surface of the waves just before her, the name started to make sense.

She took off her shoes in a hurry, stuffing her socks into them without a second thought. The roaring of blood began to consume her. She should feel the way the lizards of the night skittered from rock to mossy rock, the writhing fish that teased at the coast, nipping at the water’s edge. Her hands twitched at the prospect of controlling the nocturnal rodents that lived in the underbrush. They were sacks full of liquid, waiting for a master.

 _No,_ she thought with force. She gritted her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut, and sank into the sand until she shoved her hands into the grains. She could feel rivulets sliding between her fingers.

Everything appeared red. She could see the stark hue pounding behind her eyelids, a beacon for her to move or be moved. She had to control it, had to keep her waterbending to herself. There was another potent need that washed over her, alien, and horrifying. She did not know what it was, but it scared her. She thought that after Hama, after she had bloodbended the man she thought had killed her mother, that she would never feel this way again. She was wrong.

“Come _on,_ Katara,” she ground out. “Pull yourself together.”

Her veins rose from her skin. She sank her hands deeper into the ground. Her whole body felt like it was on the verge of collapse. She let out a desperate grunt, biting her lip until it bled. Some of the blood pooled in her mouth. That probably did not help her.

“Katara?” a soft voice asked behind her. She recognized it immediately, and whipped around to see Aang standing there, a concerned look on his face. He wore a pair of trousers and had his usual set of orange and yellow Air Nomad robes draped over his shoulder. He too was barefoot. His blue arrow tattoos were bright in the light of the stars. The moonlight highlighted him in an ethereal halo. “Are you okay?”

Instead of answering, she gasped.

Aang stooped near to her, frowning. “You’re shaking,” he observed. Not minding the awkward way she was positioned, he gently tugged her hands from the sand until she sat fully on the ground. He took her hands in his, rubbing the dirt away from her palms.

“Aang,” she breathed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I felt the pull of the moon and then I needed to…I needed…” She stopped, ashamed. His silvery gaze locked onto hers and she felt suddenly exposed.

“What did you need?” he urged her.

“Why are you awake?” she questioned him, ignoring his inquiry.

He steadied her hands, his touch soothing. “I felt the moon too,” he responded, a furrow in his brow. He blinked, as if thinking of something, but the thought seemed to disappear. He did not stop looking at her. “What did you need, Katara?” he asked again. In this instance, more quietly as if in a murmur. “What do you need?”

She found herself leaning into him. He was warm when the rest of her was cold. “I need to waterbend,” she said. “I thought…I thought I would need to bloodbend.” She took a deep breath, thankful that he had not reacted to what she told him. “But now that you’re here, I feel better.”

He smiled at her in that kind way of his, and they separated. She _was_ better. Somehow, Aang gave her the comfort she needed. He knew her better than anyone else, even her own brother sometimes.

“Let’s waterbend together,” he suggested. He took her hand and they stood up.

The two of them stepped into the salty ocean, the water lapping against their ankles. Katara led him furhter until they were knee-deep. He followed without question, staying silent the entire time. She lifted an arm, a tendril of water rising with it, and they began to pass it between them in a circular dance. It was familiar, nice. They flowed together like a current.

She let her thoughts drift away for those few moments, reveling in the fact that she had someone there that would be there for her even without words. She hoped that whatever terrifying feeling she had to push herself through would not repeat. Somehow, the fact that she needed to wish it in the first place did not feel reassuring. 

-

The autumnal equinox was approaching, and with it the turn of the seasons. Summer ebbed away in a thrilling breeze of sun and heat. Katara could feel the crisp shift in the air, inviting the change. After the night that she had, it was welcome to have the quiet winds at her back as she walked through the markets with her friends.

Aang had not said anything about what happened, and part of her knew it was because he sensed that she did not want the others to worry.

Things had been pleasant for the past few weeks. The four friends had decided to set up a base in Cranefish Town, it being such a central location for most of their travels. Aang could reach most of the Earth Kingdom in record time, and it being in the western continent allowed easy access to the Fire Nation. The travel time to either the Northern or Southern Water Tribes was cut in half now that they did not have to cross hemispheres.

Though Katara missed home sometimes, and she was sure her brother did too, they both knew that at least for now the Southern Water Tribe was not where they belonged. They had been travelers for years now, and though there was occasional help needed in the south, much of it was being taken care of by the Northerners that assisted them and their father, Chief Hakoda.

After the beginnings of the Harmony Restoration Movement, the former Fire Nation colonies in the western Earth Kingdom needed all the help to form a new kind of nation that blended cultures. A melting pot of sorts, and Cranefish Town had proven to be the epicenter of it all.

“You know, Cranefish Town sounds like a pretty boring name to me,” whined Sokka as the group walked down the market street, observing stalls. “The business council is being voted in now by the people of this place. So, it’s kind of like a different government…like a democracy? A republic? A democratic republic?”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Toph scoffed. “We have an Earth King.”

“Yeah but that’s a _monarchy,_ Toph!” Sokka explained, crossing his arms. “Here it’s almost like the Southern Water Tribe where we elect the chief and have a council of elders.”

“But it’s not exactly the same,” Katara pointed out. She grinned at Aang who was shaking his head at her brother’s antics.

“Well, no it’s not!” Sokka exclaimed. “Maybe it is like a republic…like a republic city?”

Katara watched Toph pick her nose and sniff at the booger she pulled from her nostril with a grimace. “Who cares what it’s called, Snoozles?” she shot back, bored. She flicked the offending particle into the street, and it splatted onto an unfortunate passerby. “There’s a lot of construction cranes, and there’s fish in the sea. What’s there to think about?”

Katara giggled, hiding her laughs with a hand. Aang tried to keep from being too obvious about it, but it was obvious to her. The two of them watched Sokka and Toph bicker in the middle of a couple of food stalls. The vendor selling barbequed meats looked decidedly uncomfortable, and the vendor selling pickled vegetables backed away into a stack of barrels.

Toph shoved a finger into Sokka’s face, and he looked so affronted that he shook.

Aang sidled closer to Katara’s side. “Should we…try to stop them?” he asked her, eyes wide with anticipation.

She glanced up to him. He had grown an inch or two taller in the past few months and had been taller than her for over a year. “You know them,” she laughed, “they’re not going to stop until one of them wins.”

Sokka yelled something about the significance of “important-sounding names,” and Toph did her own equivalent of rolling her eyes—which meant that she threated to roll his whole head.

“Yeah,” said Aang, wincing. “I don’t want to be here when Toph wins.”

Katara shook her head and shrugged. She grabbed ahold of his hand and tugged him away from her arguing brother and friend. “Let’s get out of here, and have an adventure of our own,” she beamed. “If Sokka and Toph are going to be like that for the rest of the day, there’s no use being around them.”

What she did not say was that she wanted an excuse to be around Aang herself without any interruptions. She loved her brother and Toph, but she and Aang had not been able to do things on their own for weeks. She saw the grin light up his face.

She pulled him through the thinning crowd. The afternoon sun was high in the sky and warmed her. It was getting cooler, but fall had not arrived yet. With autumn coming soon, harvest season also approached. Festivals would soon be celebrated all over the continent, and in a good portion of the world she knew there were different customs that went about it. All of that came together in Cranefish Town, and she was excited to witness everything.

She identified the stall that she had seen earlier in the day, a giddiness creeping upon her. She could not stop smiling. There was a short line before a trio of vendors who were preparing the treat she so wanted to try. They joined the queue.

She finally let go of Aang’s hand. He was laughing next to her. “What was that all about?” he chuckled. “What’s this?”

Katara pointed to the stall. “I know it’s getting chilly, but I wanted to try this shaved ice I saw,” she informed him. “It looks so good!”

When they reached the front of the line, Katara dropped the coins needed to pay before the owners looked too closely and decided they did not have to pay. “A big one that we can share, please,” she requested. 

In minutes, they were given a wooden bowl that she had to carry in both her hands. Inside it was a colorful pile of crushed ice topped with purple yam, sweetened red beans, seaweed jelly, sugary milk, toasted rice, and sliced bananas. Two spoons stuck out from either end of the small mound. She was excited just to see all the different ingredients.

“Don’t forget to mix that!” shouted the woman who had served her.

Katara picked a spot near the pier to sit and placed the dessert between her and Aang. Their legs dangled off the seawall.

“Well, that _looks_ fun,” said Aang, reaching for a spoon. “I hope it tastes good too.”

Katara took hold of her spoon and started to stir everything together. “It’s not sea prunes, Aang. I’m sure it’s good if so many people were waiting for it.”

She and Aang scooped up some of the mixture at the same time and took a bite. A look of wonder crossed Aang’s face, and she was sure that she had the same reaction.

“This is delicious!” she marveled, eager to get more.

There was a lingering, creamy taste on her tongue. With it came a unique blend of flavors. The texture of the jelly paired with the crunchiness of the toasted rice was exquisite, and even the bananas added something new.

“Who knew purple yam and milk could taste so good together?” pondered Aang.

They spent the next half hour eating under the sun. They talked about everything and nothing, catching up on things that only they could talk about between themselves. Katara even forgot that they had left Sokka and Toph behind and smirked a little when she remembered that they had gone out to find food in the first place. But who needed a proper lunch anyway? Dessert was a better option.

They scooted nearer to each other without much thought. The empty bowl sat between them, their spoons laying down inside it. Katara felt her fingers brush against Aang’s and they entwined, contentment settling in between them. She put her head on his shoulder. He shifted just seconds later to lay his head on top of hers.

It was still and peaceful for a while.

Suddenly, Katara heard flapping wings and a squawk. A red messenger hawk landed on Aang’s lap just as they two of them split apart. Tied to its feet was a scroll bound with a black ribbon. An urgent message. Aang scrambled to retrieve the missive right away. The bird nipped at his fingers, waiting for a treat.

“Sorry little guy,” he murmured, “but Momo took all of my berries and he’s with Appa right now.”

The bird huffed and glared at him before flying away.

Aang unfurled the scroll. He skimmed it, and after a minute, he paled. He scrunched the message together, shoving it into his sleeve, and stood up. Katara stood with him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He looked to her. His gray eyes were no longer the calming silver they usually were, but the storming hue of a typhoon. “They’re trying to assassinate Zuko again and it’s bad,” he said. “We have to go to the Fire Nation…tonight.”

-

The journey to the Fire Nation came unexpectedly, and though Sokka complained about not being able to sleep well through the night now that they had to ride on Appa’s back overnight, Katara could tell that he was worried about Zuko.

All four of them had rushed to pack in a flurry of limbs and bag stuffing. Katara barely gathered enough provisions for their journey before the markets closed, and Sokka went to collect dried meats. Toph told her father she was leaving as soon as he returned home without so much as another word. Aang prepared Appa for a tiring flight, brushing his fur and cleaning his saddle. Momo chittered about them as he did so.

They loaded just as twilight descended upon the city. Appa launched into the sky with a groan, and they were off to the Fire Nation.

After a day and a half of non-stop flying, they landed in the courtyard of the royal palace. The Kyoshi Warriors were there to greet them. Sokka ran for Suki and they embraced.

“I’m so happy to see you guys!” shouted Suki with a smile. She paused, scanning them, and all her happiness dissipated. “Though, I wish it was under better circumstances.”

Sokka raised his eyebrows. “Aang didn’t tell us much. What’s going on? What’s up with Zuko? Is he alright?”

Suki placated him. “He’s fine, Sokka, but…” She glanced around the courtyard and gestured for the other warriors to surround them in a protective cocoon. “Let’s talk somewhere else. Ty Lee and Rin are on guard duty with Zuko right now, but I think it’s best if as many of us are there as possible to tell you what’s happening.”

Aang glanced at Katara, and they shared an apprehensive look. Underneath it all, she could tell there was something bothering him. His eyes kept flitting from one corner to the next. His muscles were tense.

They followed Suki and the others into an ornate sitting room lined with gold and crimson carvings and effigies of dragons. Suki told the rest of the warriors to return to their posts around the palace.

There were already two pots of tea set on a round table for them. Iroh was pouring tea into cups. His graying hair was pulled into a topknot, unlike his typical style that he wore when he was in his tea shop in Ba Sing Se. He looked grim and his wrinkles were deeper.

“Iroh,” Toph said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Everyone took a seat on a cushion before he responded. “I find that jasmine tea is good for calming one down,” he said. He sipped from his cup and glimpsed at the rest of them when he addressed the question. “Unfortunately, the message that Aang received was from me,” he said. “I came to the Fire Nation to visit my nephew when the assassination attempts started. These attempts aren’t new…if you remember there were many in Zuko’s first year, but they have since died down until now.”

Suki sat across from Sokka. Iroh settled beside her. “You know the Kyoshi Warriors have it under control,” said Suki. She grimaced. “But things are starting to get out of hand. Not only are these people targeting Zuko, they are targeting every important person in the caldera. There haven’t been major casualties yet, but…a guard did get severely injured and we don’t know if he’ll make it. If we don’t get this taken care of soon, we could have an international problem.”

“You needed an intervention,” supplied Sokka, nodding.

“You mean a powerful, indisputable intervention,” added Toph. “The Avatar.”

They all glanced at Aang. However, the person in question was not paying attention. He was staring outside the window, in a sort of trance. His breathing was shallow. He was not blinking.

Concerned, Katara tapped his shoulder. “Aang?” she asked.

Startled, he looked around the table. He took a deep, steadying breath. “There’s something…strange here,” he spoke, lips hardly moving. “I can’t explain it, but it feels ominous. Like right before Hei Bai attacked Senlin Village.”

Iroh stiffened. “Do you think it’s spiritual?”

Aang furrowed his brow. “I don’t know for sure,” he answered. “All I know is that there’s energy that shouldn’t be here. We need to investigate right away.”

Sokka threw up his arms. “We just got here, and now the world is out to get us,” he moaned. “This can’t be good.”

Aang shook his head. “I need to talk to Zuko,” he said as he stood up, ignoring his tea completely. He pushed open the door.

Katara challenged them to argue with her before she went after him, but it was easier said than done.

She could not keep up with Aang, and she was sure that he was using airbending to increase his speed. Katara did not know what it was that got him to react so strongly, but whatever it was could not bode well for their time in the Fire Nation. All she needed to do was be there for him, and to do whatever she could to help Zuko.

She walked past a pair of servants who were whispering in the halls, pressed near a pillar with hands over their mouths.

“Do you think that with all of these bad things happening, the White Lady will show up again?” one servant girl said.

“Don’t be ridiculous! That’s just a story!” insisted the other.

“You heard about what’s been going on around the capital!”

Katara pushed past them, rounding the pillar that they were apparently so fixated on. They both held baskets of porcelain plates to their chests, trying and failing to appear busy. She paid them no heed. She needed to find out where Aang went to.

She caught sight of the back of his boot from behind a wall, and she heard the creak of an opening door along with a surprised shout. She knew an indignant Zuko when she heard him. Katara was only seconds behind Aang, slipping into the crack of the doors just as they were about to shut again, and disregarding the Kyoshi Warriors at the front.

She felt rather than saw the glare that Zuko shot Aang as she entered the Fire Lord’s study.

“You can’t just barge in here!” snapped Zuko. He looked disheveled from behind his desk. The window at his back was enormous, and only emphasized how chaotic everything was. Papers were strewn all over the tabletop. His hair was messy in its topknot, and his ornamental flame-shaped hairpiece was askew. His crimson and black robes were rumpled. He had bags under his eyes that made his scar more pronounced than usual.

“Apparently we can,” intoned Katara, crossing her arms and leaning on the wall behind her. Aang glanced at her in astonishment before he turned his attention back to Zuko.

Aang cleared his throat. “Zuko, your uncle called us here. It sounded urgent. And anyway, Suki admitted that it was getting bad too,” he replied, unfazed. “It’s not our fault that you didn’t say anything.”

Zuko slapped his hands on his desk. “You should be at the former colonies, fixing their problems! That’s more important!”

Aang marched up to the desk, a look of determination on his face. Katara could not help but appreciate his resolve in that moment. He jabbed a finger in his face. “Your _life_ is important!”

Silence rang in the room, and Zuko could not have appeared more shocked. She watched the Avatar and the Fire Lord stare each other down for what seemed like hours, until Zuko finally broke. He let out a heavy sigh and scrubbed a hand down his face. Strands of loose dark hair brushed on his forehead. He reached for his cup of warm brown tea and took a sip with a tired exhale. He was paler than normal, and Katara only started to notice when he had put the white cup to his mouth. He was almost the same shade.

“You look like you were run over by a herd of komodo rhinos,” supplied Aang, after a beat. She was lucky that she did not have to say anything to that point because he had taken the words right out of her mouth, and she might have said it a little less facetiously.

Zuko glared at him. “I haven’t been getting much sleep for the past week, and I _feel_ like I’ve gotten run over by komodo rhinos,” he replied with a glower. “Happy now?”

“I’m not normally happy about being right so much, but I’ll take this one,” said Aang. He looked at her. “Katara, do you think he needs any healing?”

She shrugged. “Other than actually sleeping and eating…not much, but I’ll see what I can do.”

She waterbended the water from her pouch and started her ministrations on Zuko. First, she stepped behind him and placed two glowing hands on either side of his head. He seemed to relax just a bit.

“We think it might be a faction of the New Ozai Society,” stated Zuko with a tired voice as she swept her hands to his temple. “They’re attacking all my officials and me, and at random times. There is no pattern. They’re bold too. Sometimes they attack in the middle of the day, but usually when there aren’t a lot of people around.” He eyed the tea in his cup, and it rippled across the surface. “I’ve had guards stationed all over the nobles’ homes. It’s difficult though. The caldera is home to many important people in the government, whether they work in my court or are associated with it. These are old noble families, and some high-ranking officials from all over the Fire Nation all in one place. It hasn’t been a problem before, but now…”

“It’s like they’re trying to take the new seat of power from the inside,” said Aang. He looked troubled.

Katara dropped her hands, moving the liquid back into her waterskin. “But why now?” she asked aloud. “It’s been years since the war ended, and those first assassination attempts were stopped. Everyone pretty much agrees with how the Harmony Restoration Movement ended up, and people are happy that trade started again. It seems counterproductive.”

“That’s the thing,” started Zuko, “It came out of nowhere.”

Aang tilted his head downward, thinking. “This isn’t—” He paused; words caught. “Something’s coming,” he murmured. Then, he tackled Zuko and Katara to the ground, a shield of air exploding from him.

The glass window behind Zuko blasted into shattered pieces. Three people clothed in all black burst into the room. There was shouting, and it sounded like there was fighting elsewhere in the palace. Ty Lee appeared punching a firebender to Katara’s right, and the other Kyoshi Warrior unsheathed her short sword.

Zuko toppled over, blasting a weak flame to an attacker, before Aang supplied more power into the fire. Katara uncorked her pouch again, whipping water around them. They pushed forward. She could hear screams coming from the kitchens. A skittish-looking man tripped on a tile and spilled a steaming pot of stew. She bended the soup into the face of another attacker who howled in pain, the blistering heat radiating from their skin.

More fire came her way. She avoided them with quick steps and caught their ankle with water. She yanked the assailant into a nearby courtyard with a crash.

Across the hall, she saw Toph bending rocks into a group, Sokka flinging his boomerang at a woman with dual swords, Suki slicing her fans in the air, and Iroh disabling a man. He looked worn out as well.

Guards ran about the palace, bellowing orders to each other, circling Zuko and Iroh in a protective circle whenever they could. Katara started to worry for the pair of them. She could tell that neither of them was at the top of their game. Their lack of sleep must have gotten to them more than she thought.

She spotted Mai sprinting into the scene from an unknown area, throwing hidden knives from her sleeves. Katara grasped at the water within the plants in the gardens, creating icicles and supplementing Mai’s strikes. Together, they trapped numerous enemies to the walls.

Katara swiveled around to support Aang, moving until they were almost back-to-back. The earth shook, trembled. People stumbled into cracks or were subdued. The firebenders were no match for the amount of guards and Aang’s own counter fire. Though Zuko was nowhere near the level he needed to be, his reflexes saved him when his defenders could not.

All of a sudden, the fight came to a standstill as an unassuming man with a golden armband stepped into the fray. His hair and beard were salt and pepper, and his yellow eyes were menacing. He was thin, stood pin-straight, and looked completely confident in himself.

He raised an arm into a fist. Darts of arrows flew at them. Aang blocked them with a mix of air and fire. Toph brought up walls of earth to save Iroh.

“Long live the Phoenix King!” roared the man.

Aang launched himself at him, bringing the man to the ground even as he had shot fire at the Avatar.

“Are you the leader of all this?” demanded Aang.

The man laughed at laughed, despite none of the arrows having hit their intended targets. There was something crazed about the way he responded, something that Katara could not understand. Even from where she stood beside Zuko, holding him up under his arm, she could see the way he smirked.

“Is that the question you should be asking, Avatar?” he rasped out. He laughed again, this time choking on nothing. He bit down.

“No!” yelled Aang, and it sounded so hurt that it cut through Katara like a dagger. 

The man gurgled, convulsing on the grassy ground. Aang begged him to keep his eyes open, to stay awake. Katara gave Zuko to Ty Lee and tried to catch the man before anything else happened. She gathered water onto her palms.

She was too late.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Saliva trickled from the corners of his mouth in frothy rivers. Aang slumped over him, dropping the body. He let out a shuddering breath, and they both realized that the man was dead.

Katara heard as someone came up behind them. She saw the profile of Suki as she crouched next to them. “Cyanide,” she explained. There was nothing else that needed to be said. She touched the armband, face blank. “At least we know who did this, and that they failed.”

But Katara could not bear to think of those things. She stepped around Suki and sat on her haunches next to Aang, who was staring into sky.

“Aang,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” he whispered in reply. “But it feels like it is.”

She kissed his cheek and pulled him into an embrace, much like when he had comforted her before. They breathed together as their friends moved around them, checking up on Zuko and Iroh, and any others. 

He looked her in the eyes and swallowed. “Katara,” he remarked carefully, “I feel like this is a warning.”

She held him tighter. “Okay,” she said, her gaze never leaving his. “If it is, we’ll see this through together. Like we always have.”

For the moment at least, she was glad that their friends were safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what the heck does any of that mean? I guess you'll have to find out!
> 
> Just some extra notes:  
> The shaved ice is based on halo-halo, which is a Filipino dessert that for some reason I decided I wanted to add in. You mix all the ingredients together when you eat it. Fun fact: I actually dislike halo-halo, but I do enjoy eating it with certain ingredients. Though I do love me some ube (purple yam). 
> 
> This story does have some Filipino folklore influence, but at this point it's an "if you know, you know" situation. I wouldn't say that it's the basis of the entire story, but the influence is there.
> 
> As always, please leave a comment and/or kudos down below!


	2. White Jade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aang?” Gystso rasped out. Aang only recognized who he was by his voice. He looked so different. Gyatso raised a weak arm toward him, fingers shaking. “I never thought I would see you again. You came back.”
> 
> Aang grasped his fingers gently. “I can save you,” he said, voice thick with emotion. 
> 
> Gyatso smiled. His teeth were red with blood. “You can’t,” he replied. 
> 
> -
> 
> Or, Aang sees ghosts and doesn't know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've noticed, the chapter count for this story has increased from 3 to 4. Apparently, there's more story in here than I anticipated, but it should not extend more than that. 
> 
> This story does contain some light references to the Kyoshi novels! I don't go super deep into any of them, so you don't necessarily have to had read them before this, but it's just something to know. (Just in case any of you do get the references!)
> 
> This chapter is pretty heavy, but it's very necessary. There is some blood in here. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Aang was running. On either side there were walls of billowing flame, licking at his exposed skin, and torching him as he sprinted through the hallowed halls of the Southern Air Temple. In the distance, he heard frightened screams, screeches into the dimming sunset, children wailing, adults begging for mercy.

When there was silence, there was only the eerie kind. The deafening type of quiet that pressed onto his chest and threatened to crush him. The only thing that rang through the temple at that time was the sound of rustling fabrics and smoke wafting into the sky. There was crackling and ash. Blood splattered on the walls.

He skidded to a halt next to a sputtering fountain. The water that used to sprout from it was now a waterfall, breaking through damaged surfaces and cascading into the nearby flower gardens until they flooded. Shards of stones crunched under his boots. The ceramic pots that held freshwater were shattered on the ground. A dead child lay propped against the rim of the fountain, a black searing burn slashed across his upper body. A crimson pool escaped from another monk on the farthest end, a sword cut clean through him. He could see his reflection in the blood. He was younger again, around twelve. He was still in his acolyte clothes.

Aang shuddered, taking it all in. Tears formed in his eyes. He could feel himself starting to hyperventilate.

All around him, he could see the beautiful glow of the comet that was finishing its pass across the planet. Its fiery rage limned the buildings and the corpses in a golden hue, making the scene appear almost ethereal.

Aang turned, anxious. He searched for survivors in the rubble and found only a pile of Fire Nation soldiers at the base of a hill. He turned to the grounds he used to play in as a child and found a lifeless Jinju and a few of his other friends. Some of them looked like they could be sleeping, and he would have been deceived by it if not for the way the rest of their bodies were sprawled and broken. The others had wide, empty eyes, a cry of desperation trapped in their throats. They had died with neither dignity nor peace.

Aang fell to his knees, and he buckled into his own arms, sobbing. He felt a shift. He looked up and he was standing in another structure that was falling apart.

There was more death and destruction here than there was in the rest of the temple. Fire Nation soldiers were spread-eagled in unnatural shapes, some others were still writhing in agony. Another was scratching at her esophagus, and Aang noticed that she was kneeling before another man. A sphere of air was circling around the soldier’s head, rotating, and spinning. Her breath was leaving her through her mouth, and she yearned for it.

The man looked devasted as he controlled the air around her, and then her lifeforce left her just as her hand reached its apex. She dropped to the ground, lips blue.

The man stumbled, clutching his abdomen. There were horrible burns covering him. His clothes were torn beyond recognition. His face was black and blue, his facial hair was singed, blood seeped from every possible pore on his body. He fell back onto the dilapidated wall, heaving a ragged breath. His wooden necklace flopped on his chest and he groaned.

Aang stepped forward, stunned and unsure what he just witnessed. He had only heard about that kind of airbending before, and they were told that it was never to be used. Never, never even in the direst circumstances.

He made his way toward the man, and tried to offer help, but he stopped as soon as he spoke. His heart pounded ruefully.

“Aang?” Gystso rasped out. Aang only recognized who he was by his voice. He looked so different. Gyatso raised a weak arm toward him, fingers shaking. “I never thought I would see you again. You came back.”

Aang grasped his fingers gently. “I can save you,” he said, voice thick with emotion.

Gyatso smiled. His teeth were red with blood. “You can’t,” he replied. He shivered again and his hand slipped to the floor. His gaze was locked on Aang as the light left his eyes.

And Aang yelled until he forced himself to wake up. Forced himself to take a staggering trek to the bathroom that was connected to his suite in the Fire Lord’s palace, and dry heaved over the wash bin until there was nothing left in his stomach but acid.

He slid to the tiles on the floor, clawing at his arms and shaking. He heard whispers in the wind, leaves from the outside that whipped at the windowpane. A voice echoing inside his head, calling to him, and he could not stop listening.

-

“Aang, you haven’t been sleeping,” Katara said, brushing her hand on his. A look of worry was on her face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

They were sitting with everyone in the dining hall eating breakfast. Aang and Katara had opted to sit next to each other on the same side. Zuko sat at the head in a high-backed chair made of mahogany like the rest at the rectangular table. Sokka and Suki sat on either side of him and they were bickering about the merits of a fan set versus a straight sword. Toph sat next to Suki, and looked utterly bored with everything, picking at her bowl of rice porridge with a disdainful frown. Iroh laughed at the argument, always the warmth of the party, and indulged in plucking a sweet egg bun from a nearby platter. Mai shook her head next to him.

The rest of the table was filled with Kyoshi Warriors having a grand time of it. They were already dressed in their green and black armor, hair up in various traditional styles, and faces caked with warrior makeup. Ty Lee was exchanging stories with one girl and trying to include Mai into their conversation but failing at it.

Aang sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He hoped he did not look as bad as Zuko. Iroh was a little better, but he too had bags under his eyes. He wondered if this was something the firebenders in their group all seemed to share.

“I’m fine,” he replied. He leaned forward and pilfered another piece of seasoned bok choy onto his plate.

Katara grabbed his hand on top of the table, smoothing her thumb over it. “Aang,” she started, eyebrows creasing, “You’re pale, your eyes are red…” She nodded to the meager amount of food on his plate, most of which he had not touched. “You’re barely eating anything. Something is wrong.”

He chose to ignore her concerns, and instead stuffed the bok choy into his mouth. He took longer than necessary to attempt to chew and swallow it. He decidedly looked away from her. Katara was impossible to lie to and he did not want to lie to her, not after the incident with the assassination attempt two days ago. They had been investigating noble houses and records ever since, after spending a day to recuperate.

He felt her thread her fingers through his. “Is it about what happened?” she asked, words cautious and soft.

Aang wished it were. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. He grasped onto a teacup that was offered to him earlier and gulped down the searing liquid. His middle burned, and he felt nausea bubble up to the surface. He slammed the cup down, unintentionally cracking it.

The whole hall went silent. He could feel everyone’s stares on him.

He coughed into a fist. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly. “Sorry. It um…it was hot.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Toph lift an eyebrow at him. She could tell he was lying. He tried not to think on that to hard.

The conversation picked up again after a moment of hesitant silence. Aang turned to Katara, seeing the frown on her face deepen. He squeezed the hand that held his and tilted in for a quick peck on her lips. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, smiling in a way he hoped looked convincing. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to go meditate in the garden before we go out to scout the island with the others. I just need some time to think…that’s all.”

He let go of her hand and tucked his chair in. He exited into the halls without much preamble. As he glimpsed backward for one last wave to his friends, he glimpsed Zuko’s form flicker from a teenaged Avatar Roku to a young Sozin. He swallowed and let the door shut behind him.

He wavered in his steps in a way that made him feel like he was wading through hot and sour soup. The temperature that raised the hairs on his arms changed constantly, and he felt spurts of cool air at random intervals. There were flecks of dust floating about that he just could not bring himself to ignore. Everything was hyper focused, all his senses firing beyond what was normal. He could feel more, see more, hear, and smell more. There was a fungal taste upon his tongue, an earthy flavor that could not detach itself from him. It remained there like a mold growing at the top of a rotting tree trunk in an overgrown forest, waiting to devour the rest of the bark.

A murmur in the silent halls reverberated in his ears. He barely knew where he was going.

 _“I violated by beliefs as an airbender. I let my teachers down. I let my entire people down.”_ A tired voice, a familiar tenor that was deep and comforting. Fatherly.

“You never let me down,” said Aang to no one. He shuddered and picked up his pace, not knowing where the words came from but from some memory deep within himself that he chose not to interpret. He felt a sense of loss that cut into his spirit.

He thought he could see flashes of another time and place. Him as a lanky child, taller than everyone else in his village. Following a man dressed in Air Nomad robes that was even more imposing in stature than he was, bulky, intimidating, but with a kind smile behind his impossible long beard.

 _“Check this out!”_ another soft voice rang. A child’s this time. He could not pinpoint where it came from, only that it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. He felt the rush of his native element pushing him forward, a pulse at his back, the sound of laughter and a glider flipping open in the recesses of the indigo sky.

He elbowed his way into the hall of past Fire Lords. The shadowy figures looked down on him like the specters they were. Zuko had done his best to cover up Sozin and Azulon, but it was difficult to maneuver around such bleak history in a nation that was only four years recovered from a war they created. It would take more time, and the fact that many of the effigies of them had been removed from schools and towns across the islands were a testament to how far they had come.

Still, the steady gaze of Fire Lord Sozin at the peak of his power unnerved him. The comet made an arc of grief and suffering above the man’s painted head, a beacon to the loss of his people.

 _“My ancient cake-making technique isn't the only thing on your mind, is it, Aang?”_ the voice of the man that raised him came like leaves on the wind. Calming, yet swirling about him in a mess of sentiment and controlled chaos. Like Gyatso was actually there beside him.

Aang took a second to glance behind him, heart pounding. There was no one there but an empty chamber.

He did not know what was happening, nor what was going on, nor where this madness that had started to overtake him was coming from, but Aang stopped in the middle of the throne room as soon as his answer found his way to his lips. “Maybe they made a mistake,” he said, just loud enough that only he could hear.

He looked around again. The frustration was building inside him. He had no idea how he got there, nor what was drawing him there, only that something in him had changed his course from the gardens to here.

The dais where the Fire Lord sat was unoccupied. There were no guards. There was no flame curtain to ensconce the man that was supposed to be atop it. Zuko had thought about removing that tradition too, to make it more like how it had been before the war. Before Roku marked the capital with the sin Sozin had begun and destroyed the original throne room.

The bronze tiles were wavy under his feet. The decorative gold that made up the wall of faux fire behind the throne wobbled in and out of existence. Instead, he saw a growling dragon caught in a whirl, mouth agape into a snarl, claws aiming at him. The doors behind him were more elaborate. There were sky wells on either side, filtering natural sunlight into the room.

In the rectangle of light between the pillars of the old throne room was a silhouette. It turned toward him ever so slightly and paused in the shadow of the platform.

The scene changed back into what it was supposed to be. Gone was the dragon and the lines of sun, and there was only the throne and the fake glittering flames. The silhouette was still there, closer this time. It turned, and it was no longer a mere shape of darkness, but a woman dressed entirely in white. She was paler than anyone he had ever seen and had features that were not quite distinguishable. Her elegant dress might have been exquisite, if not for the eerie quality to them. Her hair was dark, almost black, and it covered more than half of her face.

The only thing Aang could make out was the cutting smile that ripped through her face like it was torn through by the ragged blade of a knife.

She lifted a hand, making no noise. Something primal ripped through his chest. He reached for her as well. She flickered out of reality as soon as he did so, and he heard the whisper in his head again.

_“We need you, Aang. We need you.”_

He got up and sprinted as fast as he could into the gardens, where he was met with confused servants and worried glances. He fell onto the earth and felt the sweat puddle at the base of his neck and down his spine, until his robes were drenched.

He could not remember when Katara had called his name to come join them at the front, only that he had done so. He would have found the gaps in his memory disturbing, if not for the other things he had to worry about. Like the continuous murmurs that only he could hear.

-

Aang had washed up before they left. He desperately wished that no one would be able to tell that he was having a rough time of it, but the look on Katara’s face and Toph’s constant scowl at him told him what he needed to know. Even Zuko was more insistent on offering him cups of tea at every other moment in the past few minutes. He must have learned that trick from Iroh.

Ever since they had arrived in the Fire Nation from Cranefish Town, there was something else that was bothering him. More than the attempts on Zuko’s life, more than potential usurpers egging on high-ranking officials with swords to their guts and sharpened arrow tips.

“We’ll start with interrogating one of the men we captured,” said Zuko. He raised an eyebrow at Mai who yawned beside him and then gave an approving nod. “After we get more information from him, we can split up around the city.”

“There were a few simultaneous attacks,” explained Suki, crossing her arms. She was dressed in full Kyoshi Warrior garb now. Her headdress was in place. It had not been at breakfast. “A noble was injured. Badly. We can’t afford any more casualties.”

Toph groaned and blew the bangs from her face. “Well, maybe we should all be guarding these people’s houses ourselves. You know, tackle the culprits head on.” She punched a fist into her palm. “Knocking a few heads together should get them to understand the message.”

Everyone seemed to look to Aang for his answer, but he only shook his head in disagreement.

“You know we can’t do that Toph,” he said. He tried to ignore the fatigue the colored his every movement. “We can stand there all day, but there aren’t enough of us. We need a strategy. Besides, we need diplomacy first before we attack.”

Toph did not agree in the slightest. She pointed an angry finger at him. “They’ve already attacked us! What kind of diplomacy do we give them? The art of kicking our feet up their—”

Aang pressed her hand down from his chest in a placating gesture, cutting her off. He sighed. “I should rephrase that,” he remarked. “We need to find out who their leader is before we do anything. Attacking just anyone won’t help.”

The earthbender huffed and backed down. Katara agreed with Aang, and Sokka spoke up last.

“I’m with Aang,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. He stood next to Suki in their little circle. “As much as I would love to knock some Fire Nation heads together—” He grimaced as he peered at Zuko and Mai. “…No offence. I think we need to come at this from the right angle and getting the leader’s name out of the prisoner will do us some good.”

After half an hour of figuring out what they needed to do, the group decided it would finally be time to walk over to the prison building at the edge of the caldera. In broad daylight. With onlookers gawking at them. It could have been worse.

They halted just outside of the entrance, the same prison that Ozai was held in. Aang could feel the trepidation.

“Do you think it’s wise for _all_ of us to just walk in there?” asked Katara, hesitation evident in her words. Aang had to agree.

Sokka shook his head. “We’ll rotate. Try a few different tactics, and maybe changing up who interrogates him will make a dent.” He paused, clasping onto Suki’s hand. “Suki and I will go first. Then Toph, then Zuko and Mai, and last will be Aang and Katara.”

Aang raised an eyebrow. “Why in that order?”

“It’s the order of political influence,” Sokka answered easily, already making his way to the door. The prison guards stepped aside. “I’m hoping Toph can scare the guy by herself before we have to resort to using the most important members of nobility in the nation, or a scary waterbending master and the Avatar.”

Katara rolled her eyes. “I would be flattered if I didn’t know that was also an insult,” she deadpanned.

They all walked inside, leaving the city behind.

-

Sokka and Suki played good warrior, bad warrior. At least, that was what Aang could understand from what he could hear behind the cell door. Suki did a fantastic job playing bad warrior, and Aang was sure that he would have given into her early on if he were on the receiving end. But all of it was to no avail. They rotated as planned.

As Aang rested against the cool metal wall, Katara by his side, he was reminded as to why Toph was so terrifying. She strode in, confidence in her every footfall, and the door slammed shut. He glanced at Katara as soon as the screeching started.

He could almost feel the metal crunching with Toph’s bending abilities, and the two of them cringed when there was a deafening _clang_ that caused a desperate shout. There was also some sobbing involved, but Aang tried to pretend that was not happening. He tried not to think about the fact that Toph might be enjoying any of it, but he knew that the real answer would turn out to bring him disappointment.

After another minute, Toph stamped out with a frustrated growl. “You can stop asking about the New Ozai Society. It isn’t them, but I couldn’t get a name of the leader _or_ the new group. He says we have to look _deeper into the past…_ whatever that means.” She heaved a sigh and pointed in the general direction of Zuko and Mai. “Your turn, Your Royal Gloominesses.”

“Can’t fault you for that nickname,” said Mai as she uncrossed her arms and led the way to the door. Zuko followed her.

They were not inside for long. The silence was broken by uncontrollable laughter that came from inside the cell, and it was clear that Zuko and Mai would not be getting any further with the man. The pair exited with sour expressions, and an explanation that the man would not be “caught dead pandering to the whims of the Fire Lord.”

Aang steadied himself, arching his back until it was ramrod straight. He waited for Katara to be next to him so that they could open the door together. He was glad she was there, because he was not sure that he would have been able to do this alone. If there was anyone he could always choose to be by his side, it was her. He was glad that Sokka apparently saw that too. There was something unsettling about having to enter a jail cell, looking at another person trapped behind bars that he could not break himself. That he would not break himself.

A part of him thought it might have been his Air Nomad upbringing, but another part of him remembered that he was more than that. He was the Avatar. There were some people that could not be free if it meant imbalance would be unleashed upon the world.

The metal door clicked shut behind them, and before them the man grinned. The prisoner was sitting on a rattan mat, then moved to sit on a wooden stool. He was dressed in ragged clothing, dull and formless. His chin was littered in stubble, and his topknot was loose. His eyes were bronze, darker than most Fire Nation irises. He was skinny and tanned, like he had come from working in a rice field. He looked to be about his in late forties.

“Ah, the Avatar and Master Katara,” the inmate sang in an off-pitch tune. “I was wondering who they would let in next. Figures they would eventually come to you. Are you trying to intimidate me? Let me tell you, even that Beifong girl could only do so much…though I admit her methods were unorthodox.”

“You know why we’re here, so let’s get to the point,” Katara started first. She stood tall in front of the cell; hand placed on the cork of her waterbending pouch. Aang respected her strength at that moment. He stood beside her.

“A sweet thing like you…why would I not love to watch you yell at me?” He eyed her figure like a pouncing cat owl, lingering on her chest with a lecherous smirk.

She growled, and Aang could see her eyes harden into shards of ice. “You’ll keep your eyes to yourself, you leech,” she sneered. “Now, tell us who your leader is.”

The man leered from his seat on the wobbling stool. “Or what?” he asked. “You’ll undress?”

Aang could feel the ire bubble from within, but before he could act himself, Katara roared and whipped out a sliver of water. It latched around the man’s wrist like a chain. She yanked him forward until he fell onto his knees. There was an odd mixture of fear and arousal on his face. The prisoner tremored with excitement. Aang felt disgusted.

The room thundered and the floor rumbled under his feet. He could feel the pull of the earth. Air stirred around them on his reflex.

“You won’t insult her,” seethed Aang. He kept his voice calm, level, but with an undercurrent of a threat underneath. Katara was the force that kept him from blowing the building apart.

The prisoner reeled backward and the stool next to him toppled. He struggled not to whimper. The water was the only thing that kept him from flailing into the wall, until it was not. The water snaked back toward Katara’s pouch, releasing the man so he fell on his behind.

“We want the same thing,” the prisoner began, sounding a little resigned, “the New Ozai Society and us…to bring back the Phoenix King. Except that their society has been long defeated, hasn’t it? Ozai would be easier to control. Easier for _her_ to control.” 

“So, you aren’t the New Ozai Society,” Aang confirmed. His lips thinned. “This person…is she your leader?”

The man smirked, placing an elbow on the side of one of the fallen stool’s legs. “That man who killed himself?” he said, “That was our leader.”

“Then who is this other person?” Katara pressed, her grip still strong on the neck of her pouch.

The man laughed, and it chilled him. He looked at Katara like she was a piece of meat, and Aang almost lunged at him for it. He then looked at Aang in the eye, never breaking contact. “Ask the spirits.”

Aang realized that the man had not been trying to hold back as much information as they thought. It was like a game to him. Aang glowered at him.

“Have you ever wondered how you got your position?” the man asked, sneer never leaving. “What kind of energy it took for the first Avatar to be created? Have you ever wondered that maybe it was all a mistake? What about the Fire Nation, the Earth Kingdom, the Water Tribes? Have you asked your friend the Fire Lord how his mother got his father’s throne? Even the Air Nomads had their share of mistakes.” He paused, squinting at Aang. “What about you? What kind of mistake will you make?

“You’re the Avatar, am I right? Avatar Aang…the boy who came too late. You couldn’t even watch your people suffer. You had to find out after a century that they were all killed. You’re just a boy that an ancient spirit decided to inhabit. You’re a fraud. A joke!”

Aang tried to let the abuses fade away. He could not let this man’s games get to him. The biting words prickled across his skin like needles.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Katara snapped, outraged.

The man glanced between them, and some sort of understanding came to him that Aang could see. He snickered. “Ah, so you’re together, is that it?” he mocked. “Love won’t get you anywhere in this world, especially if one of you is the spirit of the planet in human form. You should have stayed on top of your mountain, Avatar, before you decided to come down and destroy this world.”

Aang disregarded him. He walked to the edge of the cell and held tight onto the bars. “Who is she?” he demanded again.

The man guffawed. “Like I said, Avatar…ask the spirits!”

And then, with all the might of an earthquake, everything shuddered. There the air quivered in anticipation, a drape of mystic unknowing preparing to suffocate him in its confines of silk and danger. The whispers and cries he heard all day intensified, screaming at him, breaking his eardrums until he thought they would rupture or bleed. 

Aang looked around with a frenetic energy, rushing out of the cell and then the prison building with nothing but the call of his name being thrown in his wake. His legs pumped down the hill, past the guards’ shocked faces, into the capital city. Nobles and other people yelped in surprise. The cobbles below his feet propelled him forward when they should have hindered his steps.

He felt the world calling to him, like an everlasting gong that would not stop. The sound almost split his head in two.

The sun was setting, only a couple of hours from twilight. The light cast an orange glow upon the surface. Yellows and streaks of auburn peeked through paper windows and structures, lining stalls and red-tiled roofs. Gold winked from its perch upon the twists and turns of expensive decorations.

He saw a flash of white flow around a corner and he chased it. A pallid face, a colorless one, then no one. There was a moaning sound, a humming that resonated, that pained him from the outside in. Shook him like the ripples from a badly tuned tsungi horn that shrieked and tore.

There was the outer wall of the palace, impending before him. It was not inviting, but a shadow, a bane. The ancient cracks in between every stone were stark against the backdrop of the vibrant colors of the Fire Nation.

A man appeared, one he did not know, or one he thought he did not know. He was tall, taller than Aang, and the biggest Air Nomad he had ever seen. He was wearing old robes, ones that he could not remember seeing in his childhood. They were draped over his shoulders in yellows and oranges, faded like the rest of him. He was bulky, wide, and had a long dark beard that reached his chest and accented the blue arrow tattoos on his head and hands.

“Kelsang?” questioned Aang. He thought he could see the man smile sadly.

“I have not seen you in a long time, Avatar,” his voice echoed.

And Aang thought he could recall wearing green armor, yelling for this man on the side of a crumbling mountain, another man retracting a knife, a one-eyed spirit poisoning him, telling him who he truly was because—

The strange man vanished, and another appeared. This one he recognized.

“No, you’re…Gyatso,” Aang murmured to himself.

Gyatso reached for him. Children ran about their legs, playing tag, disrupting their robes, and balancing on air scooters like the tops they were. Aang grabbed his hand.

All his people vanished, vaporized. The sun dipped closer to the horizon. He dropped, vision swimming. How many times had he remembered his people, only to recall that they were ghosts? He asked himself this over and over until the spots floating in and out of his sight bled into black. He thought he could hear Katara saying his name.

-

When Aang came to, he was laying on his bed in the guestroom. His boots and socks had been slipped off, but he was still wearing his day clothes. The furniture was adorned with the pinks and purples of twilight that beamed through the towering window behind the divan. 

Nothing ached, but he felt an incredible exhaustion. Almost as if he had not slept in a month. Though, he supposed that he had not slept well in days anyway.

He struggled to sit up, but hands forced him to lay down. He knew those hands. They were gentle, calloused hands. Katara.

“What happened?” he rasped, blinking. His head was flush against a cottony pillow. The scarlet linens beneath him wrinkled.

“You collapsed,” Katara said in an almost-whisper. “I caught you. You were out for an hour.”

Aang could see that her eyes were red-rimmed. Her profile was soft, beautiful, but was stricken with sadness. She was sitting on a squat ottoman next to the bed. A jar of clear water was at her feet.

He reached forward to get her to look toward him and spoke, “Katara—”

She turned her head away so that he only brushed against the shell of her ear. “We’re supposed to be a team, you and I. We trust each other. We tell each other things that are bothering us.” She faced him, glaring. Her voice broke. “You haven’t slept for two days! I could tell something was wrong! I can’t watch you do this to yourself, not like when you were mastering the Avatar State!”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Congratulations!” she bit out. “You succeeded in worrying me anyway!”

“Katara,” he repeated, trying to get her attention again.

“No!” she shouted, not letting him get a word in edgewise. “You’re going to listen to me, Aang.” She stared at him, expression hard. Tears tracked down her cheeks. “I love you. So, you’re going to let me be there for you just like you’re there for me.”

Aang laid there, stunned at her impassioned speech. This was not the first time Katara had told him that she loved him. They had known what they felt for each other for a long time. But somehow, in the heat of this very moment, there was a heavier weight to those words than all the other times they had said them to each other.

He resolved for an apology. He sat up. He had been wrong; he knew that now. “I’m sorry, Katara,” he whispered as he gathered her close to him. Her arms crept around his back and they held each other. He buried his nose into her hair, the fragrance of jasmine and sea salt met him. He added, “I promise that I’ll do better next time. I won’t hide my problems from you again.”

Katara sniffled, meeting his gaze with teary eyes. The blue of her irises was sapphire, sparkling in the twilight like the most precious gem he could find. Her smile was kind, and she moved toward him, the space starting to close.

“Ahem,” Sokka interrupted, clearing his throat.

Aang and Katara broke apart hastily. The double doors to the guestroom were open now, and Sokka was standing there at the lead of a crowd of their friends. His lips were pursed in disapproval, but Suki elbowed him in the ribs, and he grunted in acquiescence.

Toph groaned and plopped herself down at the foot of the bed. Sokka and Suki followed close behind, and Zuko walked in carrying a tray of tea. He placed it on the bedside table and poured a few cups. The liquid was opaque, albeit closer to light yellow than white.

“White dragon tea,” Zuko offered, shrugging. His topknot was gone, and his hair was loose and in his face. “Uncle insisted that he make some. He says that an occasion like this calls for the best of the best…whatever that means.” He pulled up another ottoman and sat next to Katara. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re an idiot, Aang,” he said.

Aang frowned, and Toph snickered at his feet. “Yeah, Twinkle Toes,” she agreed, “I can’t believe you really thought you could hide all of your weirdness from us. You were lying through your teeth all morning about _being fine_ or whatever.”

“Yeah, I figured you would know,” he sighed. He scrubbed at his eyes. He looked up at Zuko and thought for a second before asking. “You know, Zuko, there was something that guy said that bothered me. He said something about how your mom got the throne for Ozai and…well…” He trailed off.

Zuko placed down his cup of tea on the corner of the tray. Everyone stared at him, and Toph leaned back into the bedding.

The Fire Lord hesitated for a moment, and Aang almost regretted saying anything at all. But Zuko pressed on, accepting it. He told them about how his grandfather, Azulon, threated Ozai with taking Zuko’s life in exchange for Iroh’s son Lu Ten. How Azulon was just as terrible as Ozai was in the fact that he did not care for life or death in the family if it benefited his perceived notion of punishment. 

Ursa, Zuko’s mother, had found out from Azula after his sister decided to stick around and eavesdrop. She had a plan of her own that would save Zuko’s life, and this in turn banished her from the capital. They had only found her years later with his new sister Kiyi, but they had known all that. What the group did not know startled them.

“It was colorless, odorless poison,” said Zuko. “She learned her skills from my grandmother who was a master herbalist. She gave it to Azulon, and well…the rest is history.” He looked uncomfortable as he fingered the fringes of his sleeve.

“She saved your life,” Katara said.

Zuko gave her a sardonic smile. “She did,” he stated slowly, carefully, “but that doesn’t change the fact that she killed someone to do it. She knows it too.”

There was a pause, then Sokka added, “We know that a mother would do anything to save their kids.” He and Katara shared a meaningful look that Aang did not miss. He knew they were thinking of Kya.

For a while, there was some silence. Twilight neared its end. Zuko firebended nearby wicks in oil lamps to give them some light, though Toph did not react to the sudden brightness. He sat back on the ottoman and smirked at Aang. “Okay, idiot,” he teased, “Time for you to drink Uncle’s tea before it gets as lukewarm as your lying skills.”

The friends snorted, but Aang only sulked and swiped the teacup that Zuko had placed on the tray.

“Hey!” Zuko exclaimed. “That was mine!”

Aang grinned. “Well, it’s mine now, Sifu Hotman,” he laughed. He took a sip of tea. It was floral, sweet, milky, and soothing in a fashion that he did not know he needed. One of the best tea blends he ever had. He made sure to remember to thank Iroh for it.

Zuko passed out the other cups.

Something odd happened when Aang took another swig. Fuzziness collected in his throat, in his muscles, his stomach. He felt himself sway.

“Aang?” Katara asked, touching his shoulder.

He raised a hand, putting the tea down. “The tea,” he said. He heard the others startle and there were clinks of porcelain all over the room. He hoped no one else drank from it.

He stared into the opposite wall. There she was…the face of the spectral woman that taunted him. Her white clothes billowed in some nonexistent wind. The line that made up her jagged smile was dark and deep. She tilted her head downward, and her eyes were a turbulent gray.

Aang gasped, and he could feel the color leaving his face. “I think I know what they wanted to do to you Zuko. Don’t let anyone drink the tea.”

He recognized the woman in some way. He could not explain it, only that he knew her. He knew her so well that it _hurt._

“What?” asked Zuko, frantic.

“The autumnal equinox is in three days. It’s a spiritual time. Maybe that’s why this is happening,” continued Aang between labored breaths. “A white lady…she…” He stopped to breathe. “If I’m not back…if I’m not back by then…” He slumped forward. The near-empty cup crashed onto the ground. He could feel his spirit slipping away. 

Katara panicked next to him, moving the water to her palms. “What do you mean by that?!” she yelled.

Her blue eyes were the last thing he saw before everything exploded into white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Aang?
> 
> Comment and/or leave some kudos down below! Thanks for reading!


	3. Red Ginseng

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The longer he stayed in the Spirit World, the longer he would need someone to watch him. It was more than that, though. Never had Aang been away this long, not without his spirit. There was also something disturbing about the situation. Not only was he ensnared in a pseudo-Avatar State, but it was like there were other forces that did not want him to return to his body and it was making him spiritually sick. Like a poison that seeped into every pore and ate at his soul while he could barely fight. Whatever it was did not play well with her healing abilities, and whatever she did only slowed down the inevitable.
> 
> He was fading, and it was with a horrible understanding that she realized that Aang had known this would happen. She hated him for it. 
> 
> -
> 
> Or, Katara resolves to do whatever it takes to get Aang back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than I expected to write. I had to change a lot of things and move stuff around, and also it was angsty. So there's that. This is very angsty indeed. Enjoy, friends!

The stables behind the palace were relatively well kept. There even was a large enough barn that was made just for Appa. The bison was content to spend a lot of his time there, as far as Katara could tell. It was spacious, and quite luxurious in comparison to his usual haunts. (That being in the middle of some forest or resting in the shade of a grove of trees.) There was a long trough that was always kept full of clean and cool water thanks to the stable hands, and Aang or one of their friends would visit him often to check if he wanted to eat something.

Except, Aang was not there now. He was trapped in the Spirit World. At least, that is what Katara and the others could deduce. His tattoos were still glowing, the last time she checked, so that was the only plausible explanation.

She sighed heavily, stroking Appa’s soft cream fur with a brush. Its bristles untangled all the knots and he indulged her with a nose nudge to the side of her shoulder. He probably could sense her anxiety as well as his own. Appa was smart like that.

Momo chittered unhappily on the ground next to one of Appa’s gigantic paws. The lemur’s tail curled and uncurled, and he picked at the core of a mushed moon peach that was part of a bushel that Zuko had imported from the Earth Kingdom just for him and Appa to munch on. It was their favorite treat.

Outside, the sky was lightening into sunrise. That meant that it had been a whole day since Katara got a true night’s sleep, and two days since Aang had fallen into unconsciousness. They only had one day left until the autumnal equinox, the deadline that Aang himself had unwittingly given them.

Her eyes burned with something more than tiredness. She combed through a few other strands of fur, patting Appa on the side of the head, and bent down to scratch behind Momo’s floppy ears. After a moment, she decided to trudge back to Aang’s room.

In the dim rays of light, she could see the tiny flecks of dust motes that drifted. They traced the currents of the air. They reminded her why she had to figure this out, reminded her of him. She pushed through them like she assumed she would push through this too.

After a nod from the Kyoshi Warriors that blocked Aang’s guestroom, she let herself in.

He was still lying on his bed. This time, he was only wearing his trousers. The rest of his robes were folded on top of the divan and his shoes were beside them on the floor. He was pale, a sheen of perspiration covered his face, his eyes squeezed shut. His tattoos were pulsing in a faint white-blue light, not as brightly as they would have been if he was in the Avatar State, but glowing, nonetheless.

Katara went to the bathroom to collect fresh water from the faucet. She filled her jar with it, waterbending a stream until there was just enough inside. She moved to the settee by Aang’s bed and placed the jar on the ground.

For a minute, all she did was watch him. The steady rise and fall of his chest reassured her somehow. Even the way he was now, he was still Aang. Still everything to her. He was still that happy, wise, person she knew him to be underneath his furrowed brow and cold sweat. He was still the person that she cared for.

Sighing, Katara brushed the back of her hand on his cheek, feeling the clamminess of his skin. She bent over him and pressed her lips to his forehead. She lingered there, eyes closed, her expression tight. The radiance of his tattoos shone from behind her eyelids. She tried to forget what it felt like in another time when he would not wake up.

She leaned backward, sitting more properly. She could not let that happen again. She told herself that back in Ba Sing Se during the war, and she told herself again now. She wrung out a towel that was drying on the side table and dabbed his face until there was no sweat left. She got to work with her healing, tracing the lines of his chi along his chest.

Physically, Aang was fine. Spiritually, she could feel a strange entanglement of energy. It was like his spirit was fighting against himself, like there was some other force that was keeping him from returning. But she knew he was in there, somewhere trapped in a world where she could not follow.

The longer he stayed in the Spirit World, the longer he would need someone to watch him. It was more than that, though. Never had Aang been away this long, not without his spirit. There was also something disturbing about the situation. Not only was he ensnared in a pseudo-Avatar State, but it was like there were other forces that did not want him to return to his body and it was making him spiritually sick. Like a poison that seeped into every pore and ate at his soul while he could barely fight. Whatever it was did not play well with her healing abilities, and whatever she did only slowed down the inevitable.

He was fading, and it was with a horrible understanding that she realized that Aang had known this would happen. She hated him for it. 

Katara did not know how long she was there trying to keep Aang’s body alive after his spirit was away for more than forty-eight hours, but she startled when there was a knock on the door. It creaked open to reveal her brother.

His blue eyes were dark, jaded. She was not the only one who was apprehensive. “Katara, we have to talk about some things. All of us,” he said. The corner of his mouth slanted into a grimace. He did not look at Aang.

“Can’t we do it here?” she asked. Her hands hesitated over Aang’s forearm.

He shook his head. “No,” he replied. “It has to be somewhere more private.”

She would have denied his request, if not for the earnest look he gave her. It was more desperate and pleading than she had seen from him in a while. Sokka was not known to be the vulnerable one, at least to most people. She complied and cleaned up her station in minutes.

Katara followed Sokka through a series of hallways and doors, much of which she had never encountered before, and she had thought that she had explored most of the Fire Nation royal palace. Apparently, there were still some things that she did not know of. What she did not expect was to be led to a hall near the Dragon Bone Catacombs, a place that Zuko and Iroh both said was reserved only for the Fire Sages and the royal family.

They twisted behind a wall, bowing respectfully to the Fire Sage that was about to meditate on the steps of what appeared to be a small shrine to a nature spirit. His tall, pointed hat scraped the low sloped awning as he bowed back.

“What are we doing here?” she questioned as Sokka entered a temple structure.

“Just come on,” he said.

They neared a narrow door with lacquer designs of dragons and fire inlaid on it. The entrance did not look secret, per se, but it looked like it was built so that it would be difficult to find. Behind the door, she heard voices as they walked forward. The people behind it were not exactly being discreet.

“I don’t understand. If it wasn’t the New Ozai Society, then what was it? What was the armband on that guy that you guys were talking about?” Toph’s voice rang out in its typical stubborn fashion.

“It was a gold armband, and there was nothing on it. All we had was a face, and a captured man. We thought that was enough evidence,” she could hear Suki say back.

“I don’t think this is what we should be concentrating on right now,” insisted Zuko. “We need to find out what’s wrong with Aang.”

“How are we supposed to do that?!” yelled Toph. “I don’t hear any good ideas! It’s already been a day and we’re not close to anything! You _know_ that we have to be ready for—”

Sokka fiddled with the knob and Toph stopped just as he shoved himself and Katara inside. Toph must have been focused on what she was saying to have cut herself off so late. The gesture only made Katara suspicious.

Her brother sat beside Suki at a round black varnished table on a matching low-backed chair. A pitcher and a plate of custard tarts sat in the center, and no tea. The entire group had an aversion to it after what happened.

There were a few empty seats, but it looked like most of their friends were there. Mai and Ty Lee were absent, but even Iroh was present. And of course, there was Aang’s case. Katara’s heart thumped.

She opted to stand at the side of the table, arms crossed. “Well?” she asked. She made her face as unreadable as possible. “You’ve brought me here. What do you want?”

Sokka flinched at her words, and all Katara could think was, _Good._

Everyone except Toph glanced each other and it was starting to get on her nerves. She gathered that they could probably tell because Suki nudged Sokka and he took a reluctant stand. He winced and started. “You see,” he began with a nervous tone, “we’ve been talking to the sages and Aang was right that the equinox is incredibly spiritual. Lots of spiritual energy. Spirits.”

Katara squinted at him, a glower forming on her lips.

He raised his hands in a pacifying manner. “What I’m trying to say is that we only have one day to figure out what Aang was trying to say, and now there’s the possibility of more assassination attempts especially after what we found out from that prisoner, and how he told you guys to ask the spirits and how it seems to be connected, and with Aang in the Spirit World…” He took a deep breath and pointedly looked at the wall past her head. “We have to be prepared just in case Aang doesn’t come back,” said Sokka.

The jug of mango juice on the table splintered in a sudden burst of liquid and ceramics. The shards of china ricocheted into every space, but before they could cut anyone, Toph raised both her hands and halted their advance. The pieces fell to the ground and table unceremoniously, clinking on the wood and tile.

Katara was breathing hard, fists clenched at her sides. A raw, fuming rage was budding from her middle in a racing fire. It was so abrupt and so fierce, that it was uncontrollable. The heat reached her fingertips and coursed through her system until she could barely deign to hold it back. The puddles of juice beaded on the surfaces they landed on. The others were wiping some off their arms and faces. Katara could care less.

“I told you that wouldn’t go well,” mumbled Toph, “but _no_ you never listen to me.”

Katara huffed, forcing her waterbending under control. “How could you say that?!” she bellowed. One of her feet stomped on the floor. “It’s only been two days, and you’re talking like you’re giving up! We’ve investigated for this long already! I can’t believe you! Any of you!”

Sokka stood up from his chair, a look of panic on his face. “We’re not giving up, we’re just—”

“If none of you are going to find a solution to helping Aang, then I’ll do it by myself!” she yelled and swiveled out of the room, banging the door behind her.

“I’m worried,” she heard her brother say just as she started to leave, and it was something she chose to ignore. “That last time Katara was like this was after we lost Ba Sing Se.” 

Sages? What did they know? She would find the answers she needed elsewhere, starting with the nobles the assassins tried to murder. All she could see was the person that she needed to save. 

-

Katara was in a sea of red. She tried not to think about Aang’s smile, nor the way the corner of his mouth would twitch into a smirk whenever she did something particularly interesting. She did not think of the enchanting way his eyes sparkled, all silver, starlight, and sky. She pretended that the sound of his laughter was not musical, was not a melody she could listen to all day. She shoved down the thoughts of his kindness, and how he always seemed to know what to say to her, how he knew her better than she sometimes knew herself.

If she thought of any of those things while she did this, she knew she would break. Her resolve would never be shaken, but she was sure that if she thought too hard about how Aang was not one to seek solutions in the way she was doing, she would remember herself. She would remember that he made her better.

No, Katara did not need a kind-hearted hand now. She needed answers, and she would get them no matter what. She only saw what was in front of her and her goal. No one would stop her. No one except Aang himself.

Katara went to the infirmary, intent on asking the noble who was injured what she knew. She was let in when a physician exclaimed, “Master Katara!” No one dared to block her entry, and Katara knew that it was not only her renowned healing kills that allowed her inside, but the look of determination on her face.

The noblewoman was only a few years her senior, a young woman in her twenties who was just beginning her career as a finance council member in the capital. The woman was well-educated, articulate from the few words that were exchanged, and Katara quite appreciated her for the few minutes she had spoken to her.

She was concerned too, because she was a friend of Iroh’s, being a member of the Order of the White Lotus. It must have been a blow for him to have someone he worked with and watched over hurt like this.

“Tell me,” Katara said carefully, disregarding the fire in her gut that continued to churn. She would need it soon, but now was not the time. “Councilwoman Tori Li, did you see the faces of your attackers?”

The woman was lying on a futon on a raised platform on starched sheets of white. She was wan and had bandages wrapped around her torso where Katara was told she a bad burn that was being tended to. The smell of poultice hung about her like a cloud, and there were dark circles under her golden eyes. She had a narrow face and a slight build with a visage that would have been plain if not for her high cheekbones and intense stare. Her dark hair was draped in a loose braid across one shoulder.

One look at the injury and Katara knew she could not do much else. If only she had come to heal her sooner, then the wound might not have festered as far as it did. For now, a natural remedy was for the best.

The woman shook her head slightly. “I apologize,” she replied, pained. “Their faces were covered.”

Katara tried to hide her frustration when she did not get her answer and buried it further still when the guards who had been injured were not up to the task either. Hardening her resolve, she decided on an even more unconventional method that she knew her brother and friends would not approve of at all.

She got up, pushing the stool she had been sitting on to the side, and made her way to the main entrance of the palace. On her way there, she passed by Aang’s room. The doors remained shut, and she felt a pang in her heart when they did not open, and he did not come outside to greet her. The sentries outside them were her only witnesses.

The sun was glaring, and the shadows indicated that it was well past noon and almost sunset. She had spent hours healing Aang and apparently wasting her time on questions that got her nowhere. She heard her brother call after her, but she pushed forward. Another few minutes later, and she was in front of the prison again. All she had to do was show her face, and she was allowed in the cell of the man she was looking for.

The metal door was heavy behind her, and it closed with a hefty thud. The prisoner sat on his shanty mat, crooked teeth winking at her.

“Ah, so we meet again,” he sneered. “No Avatar this time? A shame. I was really hoping to speak with him soon. Perhaps this time you’ll give me a show? Care to take off that dress of yours?”

Katara scowled, standing right next to the jail bars. Their black shadows shrouded the man’s face from her. “I’m not here to play any of your stupid games,” she growled. “Just give me the answers I want, and then we won’t have to see each other ever again.”

“Oh, but I want to see much more of you,” he sang.

Katara lurched forward, flicking the stopper off her water pouch open and bending an icy shard out until it pointed at his neck. He was forced on his back, chin slanted upward to avoid the sharp edge.

“You told Aang to ask the spirits,” she seethed. “What did you mean by that?”

He scoffed, eyes shining. “I meant exactly what I said, girl,” he spat.

She moved the shard closer to his neck. A drop of blood beaded from the surface of his skin. He squeaked and added, “I don’t know anything else!” he shouted with a hint of desperation.

Katara melted the ice and wrung the water around his neck into a chokehold. He started to burble for air. “I know you know more!” she yelled. “Which spirits do I need to talk to? Why were you involved with them? What did you do to Aang?!”

The prisoner coughed, gasping. His next answer came in a tearful grating voice, his throat constricting upon her iron grip. “Please!” he huffed, “All I know is that Gyuki made a deal with one! I don’t know her name, only that it was a female spirit! Gyuki is dead anyway! He killed himself during the assassination attempt! I know nothing else!”

The water tightened and his face began to turn a nasty shade of blue. “The Sato family! They are our biggest benefactors! If anyone will know—”

Katara finally released him, and he spluttered heaving breaths on his hands and knees, color returning to his face. His fingers quaked at the raw line on his throat. 

She barged out of the cell and the penitentiary with murderous purpose. Sunset colored the crags of the caldera. In her path, she was met with the anxious gazes of Sokka and Zuko who had just crested the hill that led to the prison.

“We all split up to look for you!” exclaimed Sokka. He wiped his forehead on his wristbands. “What do you think you’re doing, Katara? We’ve been worried sick! After I saw you leave, I knew we had to find you!”

Katara batted her brother’s fretting hands away. She could not find it in herself to feel sorry for his plight. “It doesn’t matter,” she responded with annoyance. “If you really want to help me out, then you’ll help me talk with the Sato family.”

Zuko stepped back, confusion and surprise written all over his face. “What? Why? The Sato Clan is an old noble household. They’ve pledged their loyalty to me.”

Katara gave the Fire Lord a simmering stare. “Think again. Our prisoner friend just told me that they’ve been helping his group.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “And how did you find that out?”

She did not answer. She only glanced at him, and there must have been something in the way she did so that scared Sokka, because there was realization there that had not been there before. He turned away from her, fists clenched at his sides.

Zuko sighed, having chosen to persist in a different vein. “The only problem is that we need more evidence than the word of an imprisoned man, especially if we’re talking about an important family like them. We need to make a plan, and we need to do it quickly, but if we’re wrong…”

Katara gave him a sharp look and he continued, biting his bottom lip, “If we’re wrong, this might give the assassins more reason to try to get to us.” He did not say that they would try to get to _him._ He did not say that they already had. 

Something came alive within her at that moment, something that she had not let come to her attention in a long time. She felt a surge of protectiveness, not just for Aang, but for Zuko and the rest of her friends as well. These people had tried to take from her the peace that she had helped to cultivate, and she would be the force they would reckon with if they endangered it again.

And suddenly, there was nothing left but the _lub-dub_ of her own heartbeat as it resounded through every crevice of her body. She lost herself in it.

-

Katara stuck around with the others for the beginning where Suki had gone over the floorplans of the Sato compound just in case they needed to infiltrate it as well as what the best practices in terms to surrounding it were if need be. She and the other Kyoshi Warriors already had plenty of experience having to watch over or defend nobles in the past few years, but the job had largely transitioned to the royal guard as time went on. Nevertheless, Katara had all the information she needed.

While Zuko and the others agreed to investigate the Sato records themselves, Katara feigned fatigue. They would stay up all night to do so anyway. Time was dwindling. She knew she could not lie with Toph present, so she said she would do something that she was planning to do anyway. She told them she would check on Aang and heal what she could while they talked to her.

“I’ll update you guys if he wakes up,” she said. Katara steadied herself, careful not to look in Toph’s direction. But she was lucky in the fact that the younger girl was busy keeping a restless Momo from escaping off her shoulder while she offered purple berries to him in the general area of his snout.

Katara lifted her hand in a wave, and when she left to walk down the hall, the fire in her stomach returned with full force. She smiled tightly at Ty Lee, who was stationed outside this time. She cracked open the door that led to Aang’s room, seeing his prone form laying on the mattress, his eyes still glowing white under his lids. There was a pained expression on his face that was not there before, and he was paler than ever. He would not need a healing session until hours later, but he would need it. She had to make sure that there was a solution before then.

She opened the door wider, hand grasping onto the handle. Her knuckles were white against the metal, and finally she let go.

“Protect him for me,” she said to Ty Lee, her eyes latching onto her gray ones. They reminded her of Aang’s. She did not explain what she meant.

Ty Lee saluted. “Will do, Katara!” she grinned.

Katara would have appreciated her eagerness if not for her own thoughts that fluttered from darkness and moonlight. The door clicked shut behind her and she made her way to the window.

The sun’s rays were almost nonexistent now. With autumn upon them, the night came quicker. She could see the contours of stars highlight the horizon line, speckling the blackening sky with granules of yellow light.

Her hands wrapped around the tie she kept in her pocket in case she needed to braid her hair. She had kept her hair half-up for years already, only her signature hair loops stayed intact from her younger days. But there was always the moment where she needed it up, where she needed to be someone she no longer was. When her fingers wove her locks through the tie, a braid did not fall down her back, but a ponytail. She kept it fastened, simple.

She made sure her pouch was filled with water. She slipped on a fabric mask, obscuring the bottom portion of her face. Her fingerless gloves were black against her skin. She pulled on a new tunic and loose pants, dark like the night. She would not be seen.

The glass of the windowpane was glaring against the backdrop of the rising full moon. She did not go through the front door when she snuck from the palace; she went through the window. Her actions were stealthy as she unlatched the lock, and sturdier still while she put it back into place.

Katara knew the grounds well, knew the patterns of the guards because she had helped to put some of them in place. Tonight, it would be their downfall. No one was to know that she had left. Not until it was too late.

In her mind was a map, and in the map, she saw herself move. Tiptoeing through the caldera city was easier than she would have thought initially, but she was a fighter born in the middle of a war. She had traversed the world on the back of a flying bison, braved the marshes and deserts of the Earth Kingdom, gnawed through the tundra of the north, and survived a battle of wills and fire. If there was anything she could do for him, it would be this.

The bleached walls of the compound emerged before her, shining with the light of the stars. An exquisitely made sign with the characters for Sato was nailed to the front entrance, just above a grand door painted red. There was flickering lights from lamps just behind it, obscured by walls and crimson tiled roofs with gold lines.

She heard footsteps walk steadily from the inside and chose to climb over the wall with the least sound. She landed behind a copse of bamboo trees. Their leaves fluttered in the breeze, covered her soft steps. A guard walked by, lamp in hand. She paid him no mind as she made her way to the pavilions.

There, in the center, she spotted it. The main house. Just as large and obnoxious as she guessed it would be. It was covered in marble and elaborate carvings, lacquered pots and tables littered the outer porch. There was nothing elegant about it, not like Zuko’s palace.

Her head throbbed. She clenched her jaw, and she hurried forward. She knocked out the three guards roaming the grounds around the building with ease, water shifting and turning from ice to liquid in seconds. They slid down the walls with barely a breath leaving their lips and a concussion that was sure to form.

All that was left was a sliding door in her way. It was clean cut, panels of white rice paper decorating every inch of it in a lattice screen design. Behind it, she could see the shape of gaudy furniture inside. She shoved the offending divider aside.

A robust man dressed in silk robes was sleeping on an elaborate platform inside, surrounded by plush cushions and pillows embroidered with gilded threads and brocade. The candles in the room were all half-melted and unlit. A Pai Sho table was against a wall, a game left on the top of it in a haphazard fashion.

Katara reached him, putting a hot palm over his nose and mouth. He woke with a start, bronze eyes startled and widening. He tried to scream against her grip.

“Why did you try to assassinate the Fire Lord?” she hissed.

He struggled and she froze him to his bed. He bellowed for his guards before she covered his mouth again. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you. I’ve taken care of them,” she said coolly, then released him. “Answer my question.”

“I didn’t do it!” he yelped. His ugly chin wobbled, the bushy mustache on his upper lip swayed side to side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Did you poison the tea?” she demanded.

“No! I don’t know!”

“Who is the spirit you made a deal with?” Her voice was hard, a knifepoint.

“I don’t know!” he insisted. He shivered under the ice. “Ask Gyuki!”

But she had heard it already, his slip. People had a tell when they lied, and this was only too simple. People really were weak when they were forced awake, and weaker still when they were threatened. Her blood boiled when she saw a tiny glint in his eye, a tiny betrayal of knowledge when he said Gyuki’s name. He knew he was done for.

She saw Aang’s face when she did it. How it was slack under her touch, colorless, lifeless. How he had slumped over onto the floor and she had only just caught him before he hit the tile. How he had desperately said what he could before he could not anymore, how he had whispered her name before his eyes slipped shut. How he had probably not known that he had said it, all the consciousness floating away on a balloon attached to the only string keeping his spirit there.

She could not lose Aang.

Katara reached inside the man, and his body was hers to command. The ice shattered apart, flying away and just missing her. He hurtled into the side of the Pai Sho table, toppling over the circular board pieces all over the floor.

“The White Lady! That’s the name of the spirit that we made a deal with!” he cried. His limbs bent and constricted in odd angles. “Please, _please!”_

“Did you poison the Fire Lord’s tea?” she repeated. The words came out calm, but her throat was dry. The question scratched against her windpipe.

“She did!” he called back, gurgling on his saliva. His arm twisted backward, and he was compelled to his knees. “Please, I beg of you! Let me live!”

The memory of that night back in Cranefish Town came crashing into Katara. The feeling of terror, the urge to bloodbend. Something sitting on her shoulders like a gloomy shade, pressing onto her. There was nothing to stop her this time.

The haze Katara lived in was so strong that she did not realize she was making the man rise off the ground. His veins and arteries began to pop from his neck, his arms, and his exposed legs.

“You’ll help me get Aang back! You’ll tell me how to get to the White Lady!” Katara roared. Her hands were before her, fingers bending in the air.

The man shrieked, moaned. Tears streamed down his face and she did not feel an ounce of remorse. Not when someone she loved was on the line. There was nothing else but this.

There was a flash of blue and brown behind the levitating man. Katara knew that hair, that profile. Her mother’s eyes turned to her and she stopped for an instance. Kya smiled at her. The man screeched, and the image glimmered and changed into a woman dressed all in white. Her grin was dark, a slash on pallid skin. She laughed maliciously at Katara, sharp teeth showing.

“Katara!” a voice called.

The woman changed into the form of Princess Yue, opening her mouth to say something to her, and then she vanished when the voice called for her again.

The man collapsed, writhing in her control. Katara found herself encased in an earthen prison that shot through the wood of the floorboards. Her vision cleared. She saw shapes, indistinct silhouettes of people.

“Katara!” begged Sokka, appearing in front of her at the sliding doors. He was gasping for air.

Toph was in a low stance, grunting in exertion. Her feet were jolting. Katara realized she was letting her bloodbending get to her too, and it was all Toph could do to resist. Zuko had his fist up to her, Suki aimed a fan, and Mai held a throwing star to her esophagus. She could hear their blood rushing in her eardrums. An irresistible pull.

Sokka stepped toward her with some effort, and Katara stilled. “Aang wouldn’t want you to do this!” he pleaded.

And there it was, the truth that hurt. Just with Sokka’s insistence, his words…she remembered what she had told herself to forget. Aang would never want her to do this, especially not for his sake.

The adrenaline left her in a staggering sigh. The man collapsed. And finally, _finally_ , she knew what she had done. The sobs did not stop even as the rock crumbled to pieces around her. She hardly felt her brother’s arms on her shoulders, nor the comforting embraces of her friends.

“If it wasn’t for Ty Lee…” someone began, but they were shushed. She did not have the awareness to figure out who it was.

The moon was angry at her back, and so was she, but there was more to this. More to her.

Katara whispered, broken, “I need to talk to Iroh.”

-

When the group sat in the room in the temple behind the Dragon Bone Catacombs, there was a wary silence. Everyone was rubbing at their limbs like they were picking at an itch, but Katara knew better. It was the aftereffects of her bloodbending them. Though it was with some relief that she learned that what she had done to them was minor in nature, the fact was that she had done it to them. After her grief, there was shame.

But, she did not have time for that now. She drove her emotions down.

Sokka gulped down a cup of cold water, avoiding her eyes. She could not blame him. Suki and Zuko attempted to appear normal, but their discomfort was evident in the way they positioned themselves. Mai was staring at her in a way that made her squirm. Toph herself seemed more on edge than she would let herself show in different circumstances.

Zuko had ordered the Sato head of household to be brought into the infirmary, but in an isolated unit where they knew they could question him. Despite Katara’s methods, he had confessed.

Iroh had walked in not too long ago, wide awake after his nephew had gone to fetch him. None of them knew what Katara wanted, but when she started, resting on the table with a tired countenance, they did not stop her.

She told them everything. Then to Iroh, she said, “I’ve heard you’ve been to the Spirit World. Is that true?”

Iroh nodded, expression open. “A long time ago,” he said. “They are part of rumors that spread around the Fire Nation, but I supposed my nephew has told you the truth…that I have been there.”

“Please, tell me how I can talk to the White Lady.”

He looked at her, weary and cautious. “The story of the White Lady is an old one, beginning around the time before the war,” started Iroh with a thoughtful frown, not quite answering her inquiry. “They say she appears anywhere in the capital city, especially in the old sites like where the throne room used to be or the old courtyards. They say that if you see her, an accident will befall you. I’ve heard that she is the spirit of someone who died too soon, that seeks revenge for her death, and I’ve heard other versions that she was a woman who experienced great tragedy and whose spirit wants tragedy to befall everyone happier than her.” He paused to look around at them. “No one knows what her real story is, or if she is just a story…but if Aang mentioned someone who sounds like her, I’m not so sure anymore.”

“So, she’s real,” interjected Zuko. “I always thought it was just a folktale.”

“Of course, she’s real!” Katara snapped. “Aang saw her, so she has to be!”

Sokka mollified her, holding out his hands. “Okay, okay,” he offered placatingly, “We’re all just worried about everything. We know she’s real, Katara. We just need to know what to do next.”

Katara sat back, guilty. She had let her irritation because of her uselessness get to her so soon.

“Well, what are we going to do?” asked Suki, sagging onto the tabletop. “We’ve been at this for days. It’s the autumnal equinox today. We have until sunset.”

There was another hush of quiet, and within it, Katara breathed. She closed her eyes, feeling nothing but the air as it filled her lungs. Her hands shook when the thought came to her. Whether it was with excitement or anticipation, she did not know. But it was there, and it was like the light at the end of a very long tunnel, beating on her from across the way.

“I’m going in after him,” Katara said. There was no hesitation.

Sokka saw her, and there was nothing but shock. “Katara, you can’t!” he implored.

“Who else is going to go?” she shot back.

“I could,” proffered Zuko.

“You can’t go. You’re the Fire Lord, the people need you here,” Katara reasoned. She spotted Toph opening her mouth and she immediately cut her off. “Aang always says there’s no bending in the Spirit World. You won’t be able to see, Toph.”

“What about Suki and me?” pressed Sokka. “Or Mai?” Zuko glared at him for that.

Katara shook her head. “Suki should stay here with the other Kyoshi Warriors to protect Zuko, and you should stay here too. If they’re going to try anything with the spirits, it’s going to be during the equinox. You’re the plan guy. If anything goes wrong, you should be here to make up a strategy.”

“But—”

“I’m not going alone, Sokka! Aang _also_ says that it’s hard to go into the Spirit World for someone who isn’t the Avatar if they don’t have a spiritual guide.” She looked up to Zuko’s uncle. “Iroh, I know this is a lot to ask of you, but you’re the only one of us that has been to the Spirit World willingly. Can you guide me there?”

Iroh agreed in an instant, but that was not the end of it.

“Katara, this is crazy!” shouted Sokka. His fists slammed on the table, shaking the water jug.

Katara glowered. “I know!” she thundered, standing up. Her chair skidded on the floor. “I don’t care! I have to do it! I _have_ to get Aang back!”

Sokka stood with her until they were face-to-face. “Why does it have to be you?!” he belted.

Her lip quivered, and she could feel the scorching tears she held back. “I can’t—” She shuddered, gritting her teeth. The burning behind her eyes and throat did not recede. She could see Sokka soften. “Please, Sokka,” she broke. “What would you do if it was Suki?”

He did not respond. His shoulders loosened.

“Do you know how much he means to me?” she queried, trembling. “Do you know how much I need him?”

No one said anything after that, and her brother relented without another word.

Iroh decided that they were to have a few hours of sleep, but that they would go to the temple to meditate as soon as dawn came. Katara had gotten as much sleep as she could after she worked on Aang. She fell asleep at his side, and it was the most sleep she had gotten in two days, even it if it was only for a short while. She would need her energy to be enough if she was going to do this.

Then, when the sky was pink, it was just the two of them sitting in the middle of the sages’ temple. The others watched with trepidation as they walked inside.

“Be careful, uncle,” said Zuko, and he and Iroh held onto each other for a moment. “The sages will protect your bodies while you’re gone and Ty Lee will look after Aang.”

Soon after, their faces disappeared behind closed doors.

Iroh told her to sit in a lotus position, to feel the spiritual energy around her, to think of tranquility and stillness.

“Remember, I am your guide,” he said with a calming tone. “I am here to help you get through the door. We are in this together. Do not lose me.”

“I won’t,” she replied.

“The Spirit World is a confusing place,” he added. “You must be prepared for anything, even the unusual.” He waited to give her a knowing look. “If the Avatar is your goal, you must focus on him more than anything else, or you will lose your path. Do you understand?”

She nodded, and he gave her a gentle smile. He clasped her hand.

“Good,” he said. “Now, close your eyes, and breathe with me.”

Katara imagined what it was like to walk through a forest with rivers at either side. She remembered the rush of the waters on the banks of the shores, the circling motion of Tui and La in the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole. She envisioned that at the end of it all Aang was standing there, waiting for her.

There was a _whooshing_ noise. When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by a swamp. The sky was clouded, sepia. The trees were muted hues and odd bursts of light spun in and out of their branches. The dank water around her ankles was brown and muddy. Concentric ripples echoed from every space on the surface. The winds were steamy, disorienting. She could smell something floral and it was out of place.

A floating figure appeared before her, dressed in a mass of white.

“Yue?” wondered Katara. She could still feel Iroh’s hand grasping onto hers. She glanced over to see that he was indeed next to her.

“I tried to warn you,” the princess said. “You are the only one that can save them.”

“I’m here for Aang.”

Yue smiled at her. “Yes, of course. But in the process, you must free him from himself. That will not be easy. Aang has only been able to hold on so long because he is the Avatar.”

“Please, take me to him. I have to save him,” she remarked, lifting her chin. She hoped she could be confident.

“I know you will,” empathized Yue. “After all, you are one of very few who know what it is like to love the Avatar.” She lowered her gaze. “But you have much to learn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what that means, Yue. Katara went to some pretty dark places, didn't she?
> 
> And FINALLY I can say that yes, this spirit is based on multiple versions of the Filipino White Lady (with creative additions). A lot of what Iroh says is taken from various aspects of her story. She is said to want vengeance, or to cause accidents. Or both. In the story I grew up with, I was told that she can appear anywhere at night, especially on the road. They say that when you're driving in the middle of the night and you see the ghost of the White Lady in your seat, mirror, or on the road before you, you will be in an accident. Of course, that version has her as a young woman that died in a car crash. There are other versions where she died in a jeepney accident, and many other versions after that.


	4. Orange Ginger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monk Gystso’s master robes were soft at his touch, and he dropped his hand in surprise. 
> 
> His old teacher blinked up at him. Aang had not noticed that he had grown taller than him in the years that had passed. “Where are you, young one?” he asked, tilting his head. 
> 
> “I don’t know,” shrugged Aang.
> 
> Gyatso glanced around, just inches away. At the empty halls, the echoing dormitories, the places where there should have been laughing children but now there were none. He whispered, “You are alone.” 
> 
> -
> 
> Or, Katara and Aang learn to live with their tragedies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was EXTREMELY difficult to write. Not that I necessarily had a block (though maybe a little), but it was more like I needed to figure out a way to tie loose ends and have emotions. This was kind of emotional in general for me to write for whatever reason. Not in a bad way, but in a way that I needed to be in the right place to write a lot of the scenes. There were some nights where I was, and other nights were I needed to play certain songs to get me in the correct mood.
> 
> I do hope you like this final chapter!

The taste of sugar-apple was sticky against his tongue. It was one of his favorite fruits, and even though it was complicated to eat, he always found it amusing to dig a spoon into its custard and work through all the seeds. The thick, green, lumpy skin was crumbling in his hand. The other held his spoon aloft, twisting it in midair as he hummed a familiar poetic tune that sang of four seasons and their four loves.

Aang dangled his feet over the edge of the balcony attached to a spire in the Southern Air Temple. He was situated on the railing, unafraid of falling. He felt peaceful, free. Like there was nothing that could touch him when he was sitting so high up in the clouds. The mist over the Patola Mountains was violet and swirling beneath his feet, a glittering blanket that coated the scenery in something that exuded a kind of sentimentality that he somehow knew he had not felt in a long time.

He tossed the remnants of the sugar-apple down into the knolls below. He imagined what it would be like to see the seeds he had let go grow into something new. A new life, a new plant, a new cluster of sweet fruits to fill someone’s belly.

The wind blew across his scalp, his bare arms, rustled his fall-colored robes that collected on only one of his shoulders. The twilight sky was mesmerizing, and something yanked at the back of his memory like it was tied to the end of a silk robe. Pulling, insistent, an invisible force. He fell backward.

Aang let out a surprised shout when his back hit the cobblestoned pavement. His spoon was flung from his hand and skittered to a stop next to a large decorative jar. He rolled over and stood up, dusting himself off and straightening his robes. He turned around and was met with the sight of the numerous archways that lined the corridor leading to the training courtyards.

There was a dreamlike quality to them, like there was a veil of gauze swinging from every rounded arch. There were streaks of light that streamed through, and bobs of backscatter that rippled in and out of existence. A shower of them, gold and white against the dimming day.

He realized that he could not hear anything. There was a deafening silence that abounded around him, cotton stuffed in his ears and a buzzing noise like dragonflies zipping by in the middle of summer. In the stillness, there was no one else but himself. No one, not even a bird nor a lemur to keep him company. A hollowness seeped into him, and suddenly he lost the serenity he had just minutes before.

A hand behind a pillar appeared, then a man. The same incredibly tall man he had seen in what seemed like a lifetime ago. Kelsang. His beard brushed the top of his stomach as he peered at Aang. His stare was piercing.

Kelsang was only feet away from him, observing him from across the way. “You’re moping,” he said, voice rumbling in a way that it was the only thing Aang could hear.

“I’m not,” he replied. He did not move.

“You are,” the older monk answered, squinting his eyes. “I can tell. I know that look.”

“You don’t know me.”

Kelsang smiled ruefully and spoke again, “But I do know you.”

Aang reached for him, and he turned into a haze as soon as his fingers were near enough. There was a cool feeling that glazed over his skin. A breeze, and suddenly he was caressing fabric. Monk Gystso’s master robes were soft at his touch, and he dropped his hand in surprise. 

His old teacher blinked up at him. Aang had not noticed that he had grown taller than him in the years that had passed. “Where are you, young one?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I don’t know,” shrugged Aang.

Gyatso glanced around, just inches away. At the empty halls, the echoing dormitories, the places where there should have been laughing children but now there were none. He whispered, “You are alone.” After, he too vanished in a puff of smoke.

The light was sapped from the temple and Aang saw the colors leave the spindling vines, the walls, the flowering olive tea shrubs, and antique pottery. The sound left completely now, and there was no one that appeared to say anything else to him. He fell to the ground, the emptiness inside the structures widening into a gaping hole. 

“I am alone,” Aang repeated. “I am the last airbender and I am alone.”

He took a breath, his words ricocheting into the abyss, “I am the last airbender. I am alone.”

* * *

When Katara took Yue’s hand, she was not expecting such a drastic landscape change. The brownish tones of the swamp disappeared in quick succession, and soon she and Iroh found themselves standing atop a mountain peak. It was nighttime—it if could be called that in the Spirit World—and there were stars dappling the sky. There was no moon in sight, but that should have made perfect sense for the moon spirit was right in front of them.

Yue glowed an ethereal white-blue light, and she was as bright as the natural moon itself. Neither of her feet touched the ground, and she skimmed across the surface like the otherworldly figure she was. The ribbons and flowing dress that she wore billowed about her on some nonexistent gust of air. Her penetrating gaze never left Katara.

“It is an honor that you have allowed us into your domain,” remarked Iroh with awe. His eyes were wide as he took in the sights. “I have never seen anything quite so magnificent.”

Yue was soft in her reaction, just as kind and virtuous as she had been when she was human. But the smile that graced her features slipped away into something pained. Katara could hardly bare to watch it happen. She let go of Katara’s hand.

“I’m sorry that my warnings came so strongly to you, Katara,” said Yue with a sad parting of her lips. “But you see, my influence and yours are greatest when the moon is full. I knew that the full moon was coming, and tried to warn you early, but the results were not what I wanted. You are a powerful waterbender.”

Katara blinked, unsure. “What do you mean?” she inquired. Beside her, she heard Iroh make a noise as if in realization.

Yue hovered closer to her. “I tried to give you and Aang my message…that the Spirit World was in danger. However, it seems I missed the mark.” She bit her bottom lip, looking every bit the young princess she had been when they first met. “I ended up only getting your attention for a moment before you started to become compelled by a deeper side to your waterbending.”

Katara remembered then the visceral reaction she had so many nights ago, the voice in her head, the pull of the near-full moon. How she had to force herself not to attempt to bloodbend the rodents scurrying near the beaches in Cranefish Town. How she had felt that something ominous was hounding onto her. She tried not to think about how she _had_ given into those urges later.

She sucked in a breath. “That was you?” she whispered.

Yue nodded, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again. “There has been an evil among us that has only been growing stronger. It has been interfering with my abilities in some ways, and with the other spirits. It was fate that brought Iroh’s message to you in time before the equinox. But now things are different…now…”

“Now were have to save Aang,” finished Katara. Beside her, Iroh sighed.

“Even the Spirit World must stay in balance,” Yue continued, gesturing vaguely to the foothills below. “The White Lady’s actions…her attempts on the lives of humans…they are creating an imbalance. During the war, the physical world and the Spirit World were out of balance, and while the physical world has started to return to that balance, the Spirit World has slowly changed for the worse. It was not until now that the spirits have finally understood why.”

Iroh hummed, eyes downcast. He had a faraway look when he spoke. “It is because humans have interfered with the spirits,” he said as if there was a weight he had the burden of carrying. “Humans should not trifle with the spirits.”

Katara thought of what she had found out from the prisoner, how this group of assassins made an agreement. Her head shot up. “What deal did they make with the White Lady?” she asked, eyes wide with fear.

Yue opened her mouth as if to respond, but they were disrupted by disembodied voice.

“Revenge,” informed whoever it was. Oddly enough, they did not sound like a menacing entity, but rather a friendly one. There was a quality to the way the word was said that sounded matter-of-fact, yet it was not with malice, but with a tiredness that Katara could only recognize because she was surrounded by many people with a lot of power they did not wish to have.

Yue seemed to concede to this mysterious person, and she had the smile on her face again. The one that told Katara that there was more than what she saw in front of her.

The peak they were on extended, flattened, expanded into a column of rocks that transformed into a plateau. It looked like an optical illusion, with how endless and finite the mountaintop appeared as it shifted. The stars in the sky rotated and spun, whizzing in rapid bursts, and irritating Katara’s eyes. The winds blew past her hair, the long tresses flying across her face. She gasped as it occurred, and she was a little jealous of the fact that Iroh was much calmer than she was.

A table popped in as if from thin air, just off-center and a few paces away from them. It was a strange table, a large tree stump that was rooted to the earth. Concentric circles rippled from its center in perfect lines. Smaller stumps sprouted around it, as if they were growing. Incomplete oaks that were unable to reach their full potential. The bark was rough, cracked, ancient.

Vapors of indistinguishable pigments whirled into a shape, and that shape into a man. He sat with crossed legs behind the table. He was holding a cream teapot with a red swirl and a rounded bamboo handle on it that he placed on top.

The man glanced at her, a knowing glint reflected in his dark copper irises that Katara could not place. He was a rather scruffy looking person with worn orange faded clothing draped with a torn red scarf that slung low on his back. A thick drab belt seemed to be the only piece of fabric that kept the whole thing together, and even that was threadbare. His face was narrow, with black hair that augmented his rough-hewn appearance. It was messy and untamed. The wisp of facial hair that grew on his chin only made him look like a boy trying to be a man. Katara was not sure what to make of him.

She cleared her throat, taking a tentative step forward. “Who are you?” Katara questioned, feeling a little taken aback that this man had interrupted them.

The man beamed at her. It was in part mischievous, and another part gentle. “Wan,” he informed her. The way he spoke was soothing, and curiously familiar. He gestured to a stump. “Come and sit, Master Katara, Master Iroh.”

Iroh was the first to move. He had a glazed look, almost entranced, like he could not believe his eyes. Katara only followed because she trusted the older man and sat next to him at the table. A couple of cups appeared in their hands and Wan poured them aromatic herbal tea. She took a sip because Iroh took a sip, and not for any other reason, but she could not say that she regrated it. She could not describe what the flavor of the tea was, only that it was the most wonderful taste she ever had. It felt magical, primal, and a bit unrefined. But there was a sweetness to it that combined all her favorite desserts into one, and it was rather pleasant.

The flavors reminded her of home, of reassurance. On her tongue she could taste a sprinkle of Labrador tea, arctic wild berries, spices from the Earth Kingdom that she had tried on her travels, a kick of Fire Nation heat, and somehow a small bite of purple yam and sugar. In an instant, as soon as she drank some of the tea, she trusted Wan completely.

“He is an old spirit,” explained Yue from behind them. She was a whisper on the wind. “A friend to the moon. If there is anyone who knows how to save Aang and the White Lady, it is him.”

Katara spun her head around, searching for Yue as she began to disappear. “Save the White Lady?” she asked with surprise. “Yue, but…”

“I leave you in his hands now,” she said, now transparent. “I will be here to help you as I always have been, and to help you should you need it in the Spirit World. Until then.” She raised a hand and faded into the night. Only her glow remained, leaving a soft light shadowed on the cliffs and rocks. 

Katara turned back to the table, panic settling into her. She trusted Wan, of course, but she did not know him like she did Yue. Her only consolation was that Iroh remained at her side.

“This is delicious! I have never had anything like it! I never thought I would have tea I love more than ginseng!” exclaimed Iroh with an enthusiastic grin.

“A tea connoisseur,” laughed Wan. “I can appreciate that.” He nodded to the teapot. “The secret is in there. There’s a lot of spiritual energy that collected inside. A spirit used to live in it. In fact, she is my companion, my best friend. Now, we’re never apart.”

Katara set down her cup. “How do you know our names?”

Wan appraised her, chuckling under his breath. “Believe it or not,” he stated, “you and I know each other very well.” He paused and it was as if he was seeing something faraway. “I have many friends, many allies, many enemies…but I’ve never forgotten any of them.”

Katara saw the way he pursed his lips and cupped his hands together. It was comfortable. She asked him why Yue had suggested him. For a long moment, he did not respond, but when he did it was almost as if he was an entirely different person. He composed himself, relaxed, sat a little straighter.

“You need to listen to me,” Wan spoke with a booming tenor. “Just like in bending the elements, there are no spirits that are inherently bad. Dark, maybe, or chaotic. But not evil. There are spirits that take lives because they must or it’s in their nature, but they do it because they must and to keep the balance, never out of malevolence.” Under his breath he added, “There is one exception though.”

“That doesn’t sound peaceful,” Katara balked.

“No, it’s not,” Wan agreed, “but it’s not meant to be peaceful in the way humans think. There can be no light without the darkness. If there is too much of either, there is an imbalance. They do what is necessary, not what is pure of heart.”

He took a breath, observing her for a minute. He looked like he was thinking of something. He leaned forward and went on with his explanation. “The White Lady is a young spirit whose nature is to seek justice for her tragedies when she was human. She feels wronged for the death of someone she loved. She causes misfortune to those that see her, and sometimes that might include injury or death, but it is not in her nature to kill for the sake of killing,” he apprised carefully. “The White Lady we see now is a vehicle for human revenge and is spurned on by their desires. They are using what she wants to further their own gain. She is imbalanced, and the amount of spiritual energy she is using is creating a chasm that the Avatar must close.

“She has begun to create a poison that she imbues with her intent, and she has never done this before. She uses humans to add the poison into your drinks. She has targeted specific people,” he said. He tilted his head to Iroh. “Master Iroh here, Fire Lord Zuko, and the Avatar. The poison takes their spirits slowly. The more doses there are, the easier it is for the drinker to deteriorate without notice. For the Avatar, the effect is different. The Avatar is in part, a spirit. So, the Avatar Spirit will do whatever it takes to safeguard the current incarnation…and that might mean keeping them in the Spirit World for a while.”

Iroh gasped in surprise. “My nephew? He was targeted by her?”

Wan gave him a sad smile. “And you too, my friend,” he said.

Iroh clenched his fists together in his lap. “He was feeling so sick and tired the past few days, and I have not been able to protect him from his attackers…” 

Just as Katara was starting to feel overwhelmed with horror, Wan spoke again. “The White Lady must be brought back to her true nature. If she is not, the three of you will remain in danger.”

Katara startled. “You mean…Zuko and Iroh they’ll…and Aang will stay here? He’ll…die?”

Wan met her halfway; his stare was captivating and intimidating. His aura changed, evolved into something else. “Katara, you must help the Avatar speak with her. This is something that only you and the Avatar can do.”

“The Avatar is the bridge between our world and this world…but why me?”

“Because you are the only one alive that will understand her. That is why the spirit of the moon chose to speak with you. You have a connection with her, and she knew she could reach you.”

Katara hesitated, but Wan stopped her. “Trust me. I know you can do this. The Avatar is powerful and has grown more respected over time. However, though they have the light spirit within them always, they are still human. To guide the world to balance, to peace…this must be done.”

He gave her an easy smirk. “Even the Avatar needs a little help,” he added. There was a telling look in his eyes that she could not quite understand. “The journey of an Avatar is never meant to be made alone.”

Just then, there was a stillness that seeped into the atmosphere. The stars above flickered, but there was no other movement. Wan rose from his seat, his profile shining in the leftover glow of Yue’s light. He might have seen something in the distance that Katara could not, but she could only hope to know what it was.

“There is a danger in the physical world that you must attend to, Master Iroh,” he intoned, not looking at either of them. “You have to leave here.”

Katara and Iroh peered at each other. The elder furrowed his brow and turned his attention back to Wan. “I am her guide. We cannot part ways. How will she return?” he queried.

Instead of acknowledging Iroh directly, Wan kept his face where it was. “Don’t worry,” he said not unkindly. “Katara is under my protection. But there is something both of you must do, and you cannot go with her, Master Iroh.” He finally glimpsed back to them at the end of his sentence. “Where she will go is a place that few should venture to…The Fog of Lost Souls.”

“It’s my duty to stay with her,” stated Iroh.

Nevertheless, Katara heard something in Wan’s words that told her he was right. “No, Iroh,” she insisted. “I think I need to do this part myself.”

And then, without another thought spoken out loud, Iroh began to evaporate just as Yue did. Except this time, he reached for Katara as if afraid to leave her side. She supposed he was, and in a sense, she was afraid of him departing from her as well. But there was conviction, and trust, and the way Wan said she was under his protection.

A part of her thought that he reminded her of Aang.

-

When the effects of travel began to subside, Katara found herself at the precipice of some canyon. There were curling, wave-shaped formations that surrounded it. She had a short bought of dizziness after the fact, and she had to steady herself on a nearby branch of some leafless bush. When she did, she looked out to see a fog that seemed to extend for miles just below her. Against the reddish-pink expanse of the sky, it looked like a white cloud had descended upon the earth and never left.

Beside her, Wan hummed. “This is the Fog of Lost Souls,” he informed her. “It is a spirit that acts as a prison for humans and traps them in their darkest memories. Usually, only humans that have done spirits a great wrong remain here, kept away from their corporeal bodies.”

Katara sensed a ‘but’ in his statement. “Aang is here, isn’t he?” she sighed. She did not want to imagine what kind of things he was seeing down there. She was not sure if she could take it.

Wan swallowed and cleared his throat. “Spirits bring human souls down here as punishment,” he said.

“Aang hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“The White Lady doesn’t think that,” he replied carefully. He made sure to have his full focus on her. She could feel it. “If you save Aang from there, you can return him to his body. Once you do, you will have to face her for defying her wishes. Whatever you do, both of you must convince her to return to her true nature.”

“You’ve said that before. How do I know how to do it?” she pressed.

“You and Aang will know when the time comes,” he finished. He talked in an urgent manner. “Remember, to escape the fog, you must accept your fears. Now go. There isn’t much time before the equinox is over. If you do not get him out during this spiritual time, I’m afraid the Avatar Spirit will have no choice but to reincarnate into the next nation in the cycle. Aang has been through much. Raava is compassionate and will want to save him, but keeping the balance is more important.”

Katara’s hands shook. She did not want to think about any possibility that she would return to the physical world without Aang. Instead of voicing her thoughts, she asked, “Who’s Raava?”

Wan’s clothes ruffled, a surge of energy radiating from him. “Go!” he shouted, not wasting any more time. He stretched out an arm, and some unseen force made her stumble until she tipped over the side of the cliff, falling backward into the ravine below.

Katara screamed as the winds lashed about her, whipping at her face, her exposed arms. Wan shrunk into a mishappen oval, then a dot, then she could not see him at all. Her arms rose above her. She had a pit in her stomach, and the ground was rushing up to meet her. Just as she was about to hit the bottom, she came to an abrupt stop. She let out a shocked exhale, and then she floated downward until she was safe. She alighted on her feet, and around her the mist engulfed her.

She could not see anything beyond what was in front of her. There was a cool feeling, slightly damp, like she was walking through a sheet of drizzling rain. Nothing about it was unsettling, until it was.

White, gray. The throb of life. The heat of the day, the setting sun. She began to move through it all, a mere drop in a puddle through a mystic unknown. Spring, autumn, winter creeping under her skin, and into her bones. Crystalizing, freezing. She heard murmurs upon the eddying haze, sinking into the soil, into the void.

A black shade, dark as ash mixed with snow. The sound of warriors yelling, their spears aloft. Wolves roaring in the distance, the clanking of swords against swords. Flesh squelching beneath the sharp endpoints of a knife, of a bloodied blade.

And fire blazing forth. Those eyes, and a man. Katara knew that man. He formed in front of her, like a specter, a curse. The demon of Yon Rha, of the man who had murdered her mother. His sagging face, his empty eyes. She could not forget him. She had tried to kill him.

The fog pushed against her, choking her. The Fire Nation soldier morphed into someone else. A woman dressed in a deep blue parka woven with tufts of white fur solidified. Around her neck, a necklace with a navy ribbon and a circular pendant with the symbol for the Water Tribes: three swirls and a wave. A carving that she knew well. It hung around her own neck.

She was a little girl again. She could not breathe.

Her mother stood before her, just as beautiful as the day Katara lost her. Her chestnut hair was pulled back, her blue eyes shimmering and intense. Her mouth opened and she said, slowly, “You let me die. It’s your fault that I died for you. I wasn’t the waterbender. You are.”

A shuddering breath left Katara, and she fell to her knees. Guilt exploded from her middle to the forefront of her mind, twisting and aching. It was the serrated edge of a hunting knife cutting through her ribs, the fallout from an attack, the dead coming to haunt her.

“No,” she panted, begged.

“You let me die, Katara,” her mother reiterated. Kya was unforgiving. Her accusations came at her like bullets of hail.

“I didn’t.”

“It’s your fault.”

“No!” Katara cried. Her head fell into her palms. The salt of her tears mixed with the perspiration on her upper lip.

She was lost in it. In her remorse, her awful recollections, the missed dreams for the future. She was a murderer. _I helped kill her,_ she thought. _I did this._ She could not remember anything else but that. She forgot why she was there in the first place.

 _“Are you okay?”_ someone rumbled in her ear. She knew that voice.

And then, in the back of her mind, a memory. Muted, gentle, a hint of joy. Hands that grasped onto hers when she was shoving her own into grains of sand on a beach while the moon was high and telling her to do terrible things. She remembered the taste of sweet purple yam on ice, of the bay, of leaning into each other, of sandalwood and lapping waves. 

_“What did you need, Katara?”_ asked the shadow of the boy in her memories. His hands were tattooed, and she found that strange. Still, he knew her name. _“What do you need?”_

She had clarity, just for a second. Just enough for her to remember what Wan had told her before they parted. She murmured to herself, “I need to find Aang.”

In a trance, she stood up. Her knees did not knock together. She was a statue made of diamond, an unwavering monument to her resolve. 

“I am Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,” she dictated. “I am a master waterbender. My mother died in the war, and it wasn’t my fault.”

Kya grabbed for her own heart, looking pained. She was about to speak, but Katara did not let this shell of a woman say any more to her. She was a pretender, an illusion. She knew that now.

Katara sucked in air, letting it fill her lungs. “It wasn’t my fault!”

There was a rupture of purple light above her forehead, and a ringing bell sound. The fog parted with a sudden wave, and figures of wandering people were revealed. They were lost, stumbling by her. She saw Admiral Zhao muttering to himself, saying that he would capture the Avatar no matter what. It only motivated her further, to know that this was a kind of fate worse than death…to not be able to die at all.

She saw him just steps away from her, a smudge of orange and yellow. A starburst of sun upon a near-colorless world. He was hunched into himself on the floor, his arms curled around his knees, his head pressed into his elbows.

“I am the last airbender,” he said to no one. “I am alone.”

What she heard made her lurch toward him faster. Her fingertips brushed against his shoulder. He did not react.

“Take my hand,” she said with all the confidence she could muster. When Aang did not move, she added, “You’re not alone. It’s just you and me right now, and we have each other.”

Katara bent down to his level. She unfolded his arms and lifted his chin. Her eyes met his, and there was nothing in them. “You promised me, remember?” she questioned softly. She put her temple to his. “You promised me that you wouldn’t hide your problems from me anymore. How can you do that if you’re alone?” 

It was silent for the longest time. It could have been hours that she waited for him, that she beseeched him without words for him to say something, _anything._ She gathered him close, firmly, until her whole body shook.

Thumbs were on her cheeks, and she realized that they were his. “Katara,” Aang said, and then they were both free of the fog.

They rose together, and the hopeless canyon was gone. They were standing upon a road in the pitch-dark of a starless night. A harsh illumination expanded forth. When Katara saw the White Lady, she was at the end of the path with rows of banyan trees on either side. Their branches were crooked digits, bending and creeping for them.

“You stole my prey,” she growled. Though she was far away, Katara could hear her clearly as if she were in her head.

Katara held Aang’s hand tight and did not let go. He wobbled at her touch, still unstable. She shoved him behind her, determined to keep him safe. The White Lady was furious, yelling as she spread both skeletal arms at them, exploding forth in a streak, straight down through the cloisters of the banyan grove.

Another beam, and Yue was there. A shield of something like energy came from her, and she turned to Katara with that characteristic smile of hers. The Spirit World disintegrated around them.

-

Katara opened her eyes to find herself alone in the center of the temple she and Iroh had been in. She was cross-legged. The shadows that broke through the marble pillars told her that it was midday. She could hear a commotion outside, crashing, and shouts. She breathed hard, rising above the gilded tiles.

Katara felt for her waterskin, sighing in relief when it was full. She looked around, and realized she was missing someone.

“Aang!” she called. No one answered.

She charged through the doors, searching for him, only to find that the royal city was in chaos. The Fire Sages zipped around her, throwing punches and fire to attackers with golden armbands. The enemies seemed possessed. They were moving with impossible feats, flying in the air, bowing in awkward angles.

But then—she realized as one of them looked her straight in the eye—that they were.

The whites of the hulking man’s eyes were all she could see, even around the black mask that hid most of his face. The arteries were a grotesque red and popped from the sockets, and he swung about without inhibition nor awareness. She ducked his flinging arm and kicked out, tripping him until he tumbled to the bottom of the very steps she sprinted down.

She ran through the battles in the courtyards, past Kyoshi Warriors and royal guards who unleashed their weapons on relentless adversaries. The terrifying thing was that there was not an impossible number of shadowed enemies, but that they kept getting up even when they should have been incapacitated.

Katara swung out a whip of water, slashing away would-be assailants that blocked her way to the palace. She did not have time for hesitation, and in minutes she broke through the entrance without so much as a challenger.

She looked left and right, noting the burns that blackened the walls. Appa roared, blasting back a pair of black-clad men with his tail. Momo threw pebbles to disorient them. She heard the telltale boom of earthbending and decided that if anyone could tell her what was going on, it would be in that direction. She picked up the pace again and realized that the hallway she found herself in led to the same one that held Aang’s quarters and the Fire Lord’s office. She sped up.

She found Toph thrusting a boulder to her side, preventing a firebender who had a blank stare and monstrous fighting forms from entering the office.

“Katara!” the blind earthbender bellowed. “You’re back! We kind of need your help over here!”

“What?” she huffed.

“Just take out some bad guys!”

Katara went into the room, seeing the overturned desk and scattered documents. Iroh was hovering over a fallen Zuko, who was pale and struggling to stay awake. He looked half-dead and had a faint glow about him that was more worrying than anything. Right next to him, Mai threw knives at an adversary and pinned them to the wall. Iroh too, was swaying on his feet. He had dark circles under his eyes that matched his nephew’s. A ring of light pulsed from him as well.

“What happened to you two?!” Katara shouted. She kneeled next to Zuko, healing hands laying on his chest. She was alarmed when Zuko barely acknowledged her.

“The poison,” panted Iroh, sagging onto the wall behind him. “It’s stronger than ever. The White Lady…” He trailed off, wheezing.

“Aang…” Zuko was peering at her, golden gaze tired. “Did you find him?”

“Yes,” she said.

Zuko nodded, head lolling. “Uncle told me what happened. You need to go to him…help him stop her…otherwise all of us and the capital city…we’ll be finished. They’re attacking my people.” He implored her with whatever he had left, and Katara knew that Zuko was speaking more for his nation and his friends than for himself.

She forced herself to leave them, and at the behest of Iroh’s kind expression, she found the strength to do so.

Outside Aang’s room, Ty Lee was elbowing someone in the face. Sokka and Suki were slashing back a few others, but her brother urged Katara to go forward with a wordless motion. She pushed open the doors wider and found Aang stumbling off the bed. His tattoos were pulsating in and out with a glow that matched Zuko’s and Iroh’s, but he was on his feet.

“Aang!” Katara exclaimed. She dipped herself under his arm and let it rest around her shoulders. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah,” he scraped out, his voice rumbling against her back. “Thanks to you.” He paused to take a breath and steady himself. She could feel the sweat dampen her clothes from their close contact. “The White Lady is doing this. We have to stop her. I think I might know how…I think I know who she is.”

Just then, she heard a horrified screech. A crowd of servants came swarming into the halls, panicked. She wanted to tell them to go back into hiding, but one of the girls in torn healer’s attire yelled something that got her attention. “Everyone leave! Stay away from the infirmary!” she screamed and darted around corner.

She and Aang only took a second to glance at each other, and she knew that he was thinking the same thing. Even as he labored to keep up with her, he kept his grip on hers as they dashed to the infirmary.

The doors were already open when they arrived, and most the healers and nurses were gone from the premises. Patients were either cowering behind their beds or had escaped entirely. Some of the workers were encouraging patients to leave, others were tending to the wounded with a renewed sense of urgency, quaking with fear themselves.

But that was not the scene that surprised Katara, it was the fact that almost all the furniture had been blown into the walls, that the floor was cracked, that the windows were now made of dangling shards, and that in the far left of the room Councilwoman Tori Li was suspended over everything.

Her braid was gone, and her hair was snaking in the air with some invisible influence. She was like the other possessed opponents, the whites of her eyes visible without her irises. But she was pallid, pasty, sickly. There was no color in her skin, and it looked like she was snow. Her arms were spread out, her feet pointed to the ground. Her gown was pure white, and when she spoke, it was with the voice of a woman long gone. Her power swelled around her in a ball of undulating force.

“Give them to me, girl!” the White Lady shrieked. Her face was on Katara’s. “The Fire Lord’s family will be no more! The Avatar will be mine! I will destroy all those who wronged me…your leaders, your _imposters!”_

Her hand moved in front of her, and Katara felt an incredible fear and sadness all at once. She saw flickers of her mother again. She tore her gaze away, biting into the inside of her mouth. Aang tensed next to her, his arm trembling on her shoulders.

“It’s no use! I’ll show you your tragedies…and you can feel even a little of the pain I feel!” the spirit thundered. “The equinox only gives me more power! This body is mine to control, and soon you will be too!”

Katara saw a vision of ash and snow, of ships colliding into the harbors of her home in the Southern Water Tribe. Tents being ripped from their foundations; ice being cleaved apart. Blood spattered on fur rugs, the body of her mother laying lifeless atop them. Her father was shaking her, and Sokka was sobbing with grief.

“I am the last airbender. I am alone,” muttered Aang, and they swayed at the same time till they collapsed in a heap on the ground.

 _No,_ she thought. _This isn’t right._ She was not that helpless little girl anymore.

The vision shifted into something else. She had made it so. She was watching a violent bout in the middle of a throne room. She did not recognize the men who fought. Both were dressed in crimson Fire Nation robes. One of them was the Fire Lord; she had seen those same ceremonial clothes on Zuko. The man with the longer beard rose from the ground in a tunnel from the earth, then shot a funnel of air at the other. The roof detonated into debris, and the nameless Fire Lord was hung by his garments on the pinnacle of a pillar of rock.

The images moved, and Katara was sitting in a rocking wooden boat. Coracles floated on either side, holding other faceless people. She was staring at an island teeming with volcanic ash and lava. There was a final explosion that shattered into the night, and a black dragon rose into a serpentine form. A man was sitting on its back, and the two of them disappeared into the clouds. He wore the Fire Lord’s crown.

Katara understood.

The scene cleared, and the shade of her mother was no longer there. The supernatural grip the White Lady had on her had dissolved. She still could not stand.

Aang’s arm had fallen from her, and he was on his hands and knees. Her heart pounded when he spoke the name. “Ta Min,” he groaned, squinting upward to the spirit above them. “This isn’t you.”

The spirit stilled, her expression making an imperceptible shift from rage to shock. “You can’t call me that,” she stated. Her body twitched.

Aang shook his head, rivulets of perspiration running down the side of his face. “That’s who you are, isn’t it?” he insisted. “You’re Ta Min. You’re a master herbalist. You’re a noblewoman. You love music and theater. Don’t you remember Rina? Your children, your grandchildren? Your great-grandchildren?”

The spirit seized and fury overtook her human form once more. Aang shouted and fell forward, shuddering. Katara reached for him, covering him from sight.

“NO!” she howled, white clothes flapping in tandem with her anger. “I am not Ta Min anymore! I will kill Sozin’s line! I will crush the leaders of this world that have let the war happen, the war that took my husband and my children from me! The world does not need liars like you to have peace! _My_ peace!”

Aang cried out, and his tattoos pounded into a more constant glow. He gasped, blinking up at Katara with an apology he could not voice. She was losing him again.

 _No,_ she thought. The same word echoed in her mind like a mantra.

“STOP!” Katara commanded, addressing the White Lady with the full force of her resolve. “Stop hurting him!” she cried. “Your revenge isn’t the answer!”

The form of the spirit drifted closer to her, and Katara strained to keep herself under control. She saw a flash of blue and blood, and she told herself that it was not real.

“You know nothing, girl!” she screamed, and Katara felt a shock of reflexive anguish.

Katara pushed the feeling down. She let herself focus on the person she was trying to protect, the person that did not have that kind of strength now, and who she trusted with everything she had. Aang trusted her too, so she would make every effort to keep that faith worthwhile.

“I understand what you’re feeling. You feel sad, and angry, and hurt,” Katara breathed. Her throat burned. “You feel like the world’s betrayed you. I know what it’s like to love someone so much that you push yourself over the edge for them. I felt the same way when I wanted to kill the man who murdered my mother…I felt the same way when I wanted to do anything—even _bloodbend_ —to save Aang.”

The White Lady did not speak.

Tears were threatening to fall as she held Aang closer to her. “But isn’t it hard enough already to live?”

Wan was right, in a way. She was the only one alive who could understand this spirit. Yue knew it too…that she could save her. Katara did not know who Wan truly was, but she had the feeling that he had known what she knew now before she had found the courage to say it.

“You lost sight of who you are,” whispered Katara. She spoke about herself as well. Her voice trembled on her words, “and that’s okay.” She recalled that she had done the same thing not too long ago. The feeling of a susceptible body under her bloodbending hold.

“But Aang is Roku’s reincarnation,” she continued. “You loved him. So why would you do this to your descendants, to the Avatar’s new life? I don’t think Roku would want this for you. You wanted revenge, and then it got out of control. You were led astray.”

Something indecipherable crossed the White Lady’s face, and the human body of Councilwoman Tori Li alighted on the tiles. Her dark hair ceased flying and fell limply on her back.

Aang grunted, and the glow grew stronger. A shining cobalt light appeared on the far end of the room, another figure solidifying. Avatar Roku stood at the base of an overturned bed. He was transparent and blue. The White Lady turned to him, and the body of the councilwoman plummeted onto the ground. Out of her pocket, a round tile rolled to Katara’s leg.

She picked it up. In her hands was a white lotus tile painted over with a smear of red paint. The White Lady gestured to it as if to say that it was one last clue. One last gift from her.

“Yes,” the spirit said softly. “I did lose sight of myself. I lost sight of him.”

Roku reached for her, a weak smile on his lips, and he did not say a word.

The White Lady changed and morphed. The dying light of the setting sun of the day bled through the fractured windowpanes and highlighted her as she regained her color. She was an attractive woman, even in an elderly age. Her hair was dark brown and tied into a topknot, her eyes silvery gray, her clothes pink and delicate red.

Aang heaved, sitting up, his tattoos only dimly glowing now as Roku started to fade. His eyes were closed. His voice was mixed in with a deeper tone. Roku’s. “Revenge isn’t the answer,” he said to Ta Min as she glanced at him, “Even if it’s hard to forgive.”

Love was something stronger, and Katara knew that now.

The sun set on the equinox, and it set on Ta Min too.

-

The next few days were full of aches and hardship. Councilwoman Li was dead. Her injuries had proven fatal, especially after she had been taken over by a spirit.

They had found out from the formerly possessed that the attack on the Li compound was staged to lift any potential blame from her. The efforts had backfired. Many of them were quick to rat out anyone involved that they knew of now that the spirit they had made a deal with had betrayed them and used them as weapons. Many of them were deformed for life, having permanently lengthened visages or a single eye without a pupil. Or both. A few others had not survived. The rest had been jailed in the Boiling Rock.

Aang, Zuko, and Iroh were weak from the course the poison had run through them. However, that did not stop any of them from compiling all the evidence they needed, much to the annoyance of Katara and the others. Luckily, when the White Lady was banished, so was the poison.

“My men found incriminating correspondence between Councilwoman Li and Gyuki in her house,” Zuko said. He was sitting in bed, the covers up to his waist. At least they had convinced him to lay down. “They were working together to take down world governments, starting with the Fire Nation.”

Iroh was on the couch near his nephew, and Aang on the other side. They had not been resting at all, and Zuko was irked that he had been the one to be strongarmed into it while the other two resisted. (Katara admitted that it was easiest to make Zuko do what they wanted, especially since he tended to have the strongest guilt complex. Mai threatening him helped. If she was being honest with herself, the only reason Aang had been let off the hook was because he had told Katara that he missed her.)

Iroh sighed. “To find this now…I have failed as a Grand Lotus,” he remarked. “How could we not know that one of our own members was plotting something so against our order?”

Zuko smirked sadly. “Uncle, she learned from the best,” he said. “The Order of the White Lotus kept its secrets well before you decided to reveal yourselves after the war. If she didn’t want to be found out, she wouldn’t have been. Even her messages were encrypted, and it took your knowledge and all our decoders to decipher it all so quickly.”

Aang leaned on his hand with a fatigued sigh. “But what does it all mean?” he asked. “And the tile that Katara found?”

Iroh frowned and stated, “I don’t know what a red lotus tile means, but I do know that after this we have to look further into the order. I’ll have to call on Jeong Jeong, Bumi, Piandao, and Pakku…the most senior members besides me. We may be in the middle of a schism. For now, I believe this is all we can do.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” added Aang, lifting an eyebrow.

Iroh put a hand on his arm. “It is the duty for the White Lotus to help the Avatar keep balance. We will do whatever it takes to protect you and to make sure you can do your job…as we have been doing for centuries. The last time we had done this duty was during the time of Avatar Kyoshi, but that promise has never faltered.”

“I can still help you,” said Aang.

“I will keep an eye on things, Avatar Aang,” smiled Iroh. “If we need your help, I will call on you. In the meantime, you have the rest of the world to worry about. The war has only been over for four years, and the world is still healing. There is enough on your shoulders.”

Aang did not look appeased, but he nodded in agreement, nevertheless.

There was a beat of quiet in which Toph kicked up her dirty feet on the table. She sat on the slanted stool across from Katara. Sokka fiddled with his sleeve, and Suki plopped down next to him. Mai, who was beside Zuko this entire time, was bored as usual.

“I’ve banished the Sato Clan. They’re a small household fortunately, but they won’t be coming back to the Fire Nation.” Zuko sounded tired as he spoke. “They were benefactors, but none of them actively took a role in the assassination attempts. So, banishment was what I chose.”

“It doesn’t seem harsh enough,” pouted Toph. She scratched the inside of her ear and Katara grimaced when she sniffed at the same finger that did so.

“Their assets have been dissolved into the Fire Nation’s coffers,” Zuko went on, brushing off Toph’s comment. “We’ll be using much of it for rebuilding and sending funds with it to the former colonies in the Earth Kingdom. In a way, I guess that was a good thing.”

Aang beamed. “It’s a good decision, Zuko,” he offered. “You were merciful in your own way.”

Toph scoffed, slumping into her seat.

“Aang’s right, Zuko,” agreed Katara. She smiled at the Fire Lord. “I think the world’s had enough fighting. Banishment isn’t easy, but maybe the Satos can learn what you did while you were out there looking for the Avatar.”

“You mean how to scowl and be angry a lot?” teased Sokka.

Zuko did just that as the entire room filled with the musical sounds of laughter. Katara let the mirth overtake her, even for just a moment.

-

Weeks passed by, and Katara was on Appa’s back again. They were on their way back to Cranefish Town. She could hear Sokka and Toph bickering in the saddle about the name of the city again. Suki was with them this time, having been granted some leave after such a stressful ordeal.

“I’m telling you; Republic City is a _way_ better name than Cranefish Town or whatever!” Sokka shouted. Katara could imagine his arms flailing about him. 

“Well, I happen to _like_ the cranes _and_ fishes, thank you very much!” bit out Toph. “What do you have against them, anyway?”

“What do I have against them? It’s sounds stupid, that’s what!” Sokka sounded annoyed. Suki was giggling and he asked her whose side she was on, to which she only laughed harder.

Katara was sitting on Appa’s head, Momo curled in her lap. Next to her, Aang flicked his wrists, guiding the bison through the skies. She thought he was the most radiant when he was up here, surrounded by his native element. She put her head on his shoulder and sighed. He was warm against her cheek, and she could not help but feel content.

Hours later, they descended into the city proper. The weather felt different now. The air was chillier. The foliage had started to change into coppers, yellows, reds, and oranges. Just on the outer rim of the forest that surrounded the buildings, there was still spurts of verdant green. The turn of the seasons, the time for change.

Sokka and Suki decided they were going out to eat, and Toph loudly explained that she wanted to check in on her father at the mansion. That left her and Aang alone on the dock of Yue Bay.

Appa and Momo were too excited to stick around, having skittered off to follow Toph, most likely in search of their favorite moon peaches. The Beifongs kept barrels of the fruit for them on Toph’s insistence. Katara knew the girl would never admit that she loved the two creatures as much as she did. It was in the grand gestures she made for them instead of her words.

Crickets sang from the brush. It was dark, and a waning gibbous rose to the apex of the midnight sky. The reflection of it vacillated on the swelling waves of the ocean. It had been a month since they had left.

Katara stared out into the darkness. She felt Aang tug her toward him, and she was at his side. She turned her face into his chest. The scent of sandalwood was familiar to her. She raised a hand and clutched the fabric of his clothes.

This time, there was no pounding in her ears as the moon egged her into a dark place. But she was reminded of her mistakes.

“Back then, I thought I was going to lose you,” she said. Her lips skimmed the cottony material. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

Aang hummed, holding her closer. “You saved me,” he stated. He was soft, calm, grateful.

“I didn’t do much of anything.”

“No, Katara,” he claimed with conviction that she sensed was impenetrable inside him. “You did a lot. You’re the only one who could’ve gotten me out of there. There’s no one else but you.”

She tilted her head to his. He leaned downward and kissed her briefly, and the guilt that ate at her only intensified.

Katara shook her head. “I almost went too far,” she whispered. “I almost killed someone just so I could get information from him.” She slowed, searching for how he would react, then continued. “I got so angry that I lost control of myself. I bloodbended, Aang,” she admitted. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I _bloodbended_ because I was so angry that they took you from me.”

The disappointment she expected to see in his eyes never appeared. He pressed her head to his chest. “It doesn’t matter, Katara,” he said back, “You’re the strongest person I know. No matter what you did, you were strong enough to stop.”

She breathed in, the wetness of her eyes overflowing. “I only stopped because Sokka reminded me of you.”

He was silent. Then, “You stopped because you wanted to.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“No,” he responded. “I just know you.”

They parted and sat on the edge of the dock, toes gliding upon the waters that flowed below them. She grasped his hand in hers. Let out a breath, wiped her tears away. It was difficult but she would work on it…on believing in herself as much as Aang believed in her.

She spoke through the peaceful lull. “I don’t want that kind of control on anyone. I don’t want that kind of revenge,” she remarked. “I want to be better than that, and I want to be held accountable. Maybe I can get bloodbending outlawed so that no one else will get hurt by it.”

He glanced at her. “Are you sure you want that?”

She nodded.

“Okay,” he said. Simply. Easily. “I’ll support you.”

Katara smiled for the first time in a while. The way he was always by her side was comforting, and she could imagine what life would be like if they were together through it all. A future, maybe. Where the war was more than a few years ended, and their troubles had drifted so far behind them that they were mere specks on some distant horizon. Where the tragedies of their pasts did not plague them so much, where she did not see the blood on the snow in her nightmares, and where he was no longer the last of his people.

Aang pointed to the uneven shadow on the water. A craggy expanse with hundreds of trees that was limned by the light of the moon.

“What if…we could build a home there on that island?” he wondered with a tentative falter. He sounded a little wistful. “And maybe someday…we could build a family.”

Katara kissed him again. This time, for longer. When they pulled apart, she could see the twinkle in his eyes. The hope that resided there, and the happiness.

They were young, and their lives were just beginning. They had fought in a war, saved generations of people from experiencing what they had when they were younger. They had lost a lot and endured even more. They were not adults in the way that the rest of the world thought. They were still children somehow, still vulnerable, and naïve. But that did not mean that they did not know what it was like to learn for themselves.

When they were prepared, Katara would take that offer.

“Someday,” she agreed. “When we’re older and ready. I’d like that.”

She wondered if there were others like her, like Ta Min, that drifted in and out of the Avatar’s life and knew. A cycle, a promise. After all, the journey of an Avatar was never meant to be made alone. She was the only one alive that understood that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. This was honestly the most ambitious fanfic I've ever written. More ambitious than the Legacy series for some reason. I guess it's because what I'm working with here is a lot of non-established canon. I had to really come up with a story here, and leave clues that I came up with that did not necessarily allude to canon. So that was a challenge. I really liked it though. It was fun! (And made me really delve into Aang and Katara's post-war relationship a lot.)
> 
> Some notes: 
> 
> Like I said, the White Lady in this story is based off many versions of the Filipino White Lady. I've vaguely hinted at some aspects of her. The road Katara finds her on is a nod to Balete Drive in Manila, the road that used to be surrounded by balete trees (which I guess are kind of like or are related to banyans), and where she is spotted a lot. 
> 
> Sugar-apple is also called sweetsop. I grew up calling it "atis," so I had to look up the English word. Shout out to people who know what it is, because it's one of my favorite fruits.
> 
> Please leave a comment and/or kudos down below!


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